


Under The Skin

by DizzyRedhead



Series: Bring On The Rain [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angelic Possession, Castiel Respects Your Boundaries, Communication, Consensual Non-Consent, Consensual Possession, Dirty Talk, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hints at future slash, Kink Negotiation, Light Bondage, Multi, No Slash, Panic Attacks, Phone Sex, Porn With Plot, Season 10 AU, Threesome - F/M/M, Voyeur Castiel, Voyeur Dean, Voyeur Sam, Wincest if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-02-21 14:30:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 64,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2471600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyRedhead/pseuds/DizzyRedhead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claire gets picked up by two brothers at a bar. That's how it starts, anyway.  </p>
<p>My first fanfic attempt; couldn't get it out of my head any way other than writing it down. Canon through the beginning of Season 10, diverging in my own direction now. Starts as porn, plot later.</p>
<p>NSFW warning: This is a sexually explicit work. Reading it at work may cause blushing, inappropriate feelings, and rapid closing of browser windows.</p>
<p>Disclaimer: Sam and Dean and the Supernatural crew are not mine, I don't own them. Alas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. If You Want Me To

Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, Claire leaned over the pool table and lined up her shot. The cue ball sliced neatly past the 9-ball, dropping the 11 into the side pocket.

The shot made, her focus once again expanded to the bar around her. Aerosmith played from the jukebox, and the smells of beer, cigarettes, and bar food mingled in the air. Focusing outside the lights shining down on the two pool tables was difficult, the rest of the bar a dimly lit blur, but the dance of mating, socializing, or coping rituals appeared to be carrying on as usual. Wendy, the younger of the two waitresses, detoured past the pool tables to pick up Claire’s empty and replace it with a fresh drink without being asked.

“A little busy tonight?” Claire asked, sipping her margarita happily.

Wendy paused, leaning a hip against the pool table. “Yeah. It’s usually quieter than this. Good for tips, but my feet are killing me.”

Claire grimaced in sympathy. “Honey, you couldn’t pay me enough to wear those heels, much less on your shift.”

“But they look so pretty,” Wendy sighed, then groaned as a table of college boys gestured her way with their empty pitcher. “Duty calls. Maybe this time nobody will pinch my ass.”

Setting her drink down on the stool she’d claimed before the bar filled up, Claire returned to her abandoned game, lining up to roll the 5 down the bumper and into the corner pocket. She inhaled, about to take the shot, but before she could do so, a stack of quarters clinked onto the bumper.

Claire looked up...and up. The guy was tall, easily a foot taller than her 5’ 6”. She gestured to the empty pool table to his left. “That table’s free.”

He shrugged wide shoulders, tucking shaggy dark hair behind his ear. “I don’t like playing with myself.” Claire smirked at him disbelievingly, and he ducked his head, dimples flashing with a sheepish smile. “ _By_ myself. I don’t like playing by myself.”

“Well, I do,” she retorted, lining up her shot again. “So when I’m done here, you can have this table, and I can move over there.”

“C’mon,” he wheedled, “Please? Just one game.”

Sinking the shot, Claire moved around the table to get a better angle on the 10. “Fine. But I have to warn you…” she sank the 10, but scratched. “Fuck.”

“You have to warn me?” he prompted.

She walked up, deliberately invading his personal space. “I am very, very, extremely….mediocre at this game.” Retrieving the cue ball, she plonked it on the table and surveyed her options.

“Well, hell, I’m definitely not betting with you.” He pulled up a stool. “I’m Sam.”

She glanced up at him...and up some more. Even sitting, he was ridiculously tall. “Claire.”

He eyed the table. “You could bank it and drop the 12 in the corner pocket there.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “What part of mediocre don’t you understand? Do I look like I can make bank shots reliably?”

“It’s not that hard, really.” The dimples made another appearance, only this time the grin was less sheepish and more...Claire stopped herself before thinking the word sexy. Or hot. Challenging. That was it. It was challenging. “I could help you out if you want. Give you a few pointers.”

Hands on hips, she turned to face him. “Are you seriously going to pull that whole ‘oh, let me show you, baby’ routine? The one that’s just an excuse for the guy to wrap himself around the girl?”

If anything, the grin deepened, past challenging and straight into wicked. “Only if you want me to.” He stood, moving behind her, and braced his hands against the pool table on either side of her, leaning down until his lips were almost touching her ear. “Do you want me to?”

Claire’s stomach somersaulted. Trying to think clearly was almost impossible with his breath whispering over her ear and the solid heat of him behind her, almost close enough to touch. Then again, she acknowledged, parts of her brain hadn't been thinking clearly since the first moment she met his eyes. If she wanted to forget, this was probably the way to do it. “You know, I think I really do.”

Sam moved up until he was pressed against her back, hands sliding down her arms until they covered hers on the cue stick. The thin cotton of her tank top was no match for the heat coming off his body. She fought not to shiver against him.

“So how much do you know about bank shots?”

_Breathe_. “I know I suck at them. I know you bounce the ball off the bumper and try to get it to hit the ball you want.” Claire shrugged. “Half the time I can’t get it anywhere near the ball I want, much less sink the ball into the pocket.”

“The cue ball is going to come off the bumper at the same angle you bank it, so you have to get good at figuring angles.” Sam guided her gently to the other side of the table. “If we aim it right...there….” They made the shot and watched as the cue ball, banked neatly off the bumper, sliced past the 12, sending it on its way to the corner pocket, and rolled to a stop in near perfect position to sink the 2 in the other corner. “See? Easy.”

“Well, sure, when you’re good at it,” Claire grumbled good-naturedly, grinning nonetheless. “Um...that guy over there is watching us. Kind of intensely.” She gestured with her chin toward a nearby table. The man there had short, spiky dark blond hair, and was watching them like they were his own private show, eyes hot and tightly-focused. “Do you know him?”

“Yeah, that’s my brother, Dean.” Sam leaned down again until his mouth was at her ear. “He likes to watch. Does that bother you?”

Holy shit. Claire’s mind locked up for a moment, trying to process what she’d heard, and all it implied. Once she’d worked through the fact that yes, he’d really said it, and yes, it seemed like he meant it, it was time to think about the question itself. Did it bother her? Strangely, she found the answer quickly. “No. It doesn't bother me.”

Sam spun her around, boosting her up to sit on the pool table. “Good answer.” Stepping up between her knees, he paused for a minute, giving her time to protest, pull back, say something. Claire fisted her hands in his dark gray button-down, pulling him down to her.  He caught her lip in his teeth, scraping gently before licking into her mouth. Claire shuddered, sliding her fingers up into his hair, and felt Sam shiver in return, his big hands coming up to cradle her head, holding her in place. Far from trying to get away, she pushed closer, pressing herself up against the hard heat of his chest as he explored her mouth with single-minded intensity.

They broke apart, breathing hard. Sam stroked his thumb over her cheekbone, hazel eyes never leaving hers. “Come with me?”

Claire inhaled and braced herself. "I think first we should establish some ground rules."

His brow furrowed. "Like what?"

"Like your brother. You said he likes to watch. Is that all he does? Or is he going to want to join in at some point?"

"Um.." Sam blushed, just a little, dropping his gaze. "Sometimes, yeah."

"I'm not saying I don't want this," Claire reassured him, feeling him tense as though bracing for rejection. “But I don’t really know you, and you don’t really know me. This will be a lot more satisfying for both of us if we take a couple of minutes and talk about what is and isn't on the table.”

Sam relaxed, and the grin made another appearance. She was beginning to think it should be classified as a lethal weapon. An intoxicant at the very least. “Wait. You’re saying you want to tell me what you like and don’t like? I don’t have to figure it out by trial and error? I’m not going to get the silent treatment if I fail to read your mind?” He swung her down from the table and grabbed her hand, leading her toward his brother’s table. “Hot damn. Never let it be said I stopped a pretty woman who wanted to talk dirty to me.”

Once at the booth, he waited for her to slide in first before sitting next to her. “Dean, this is Claire. Claire, my brother Dean.”

Seen up close, Dean had the same hazel eyes as his brother, and a much more blatant sex appeal. “You two looked pretty comfy over there on the pool table. I figured you’d be headed out about now.”

“Claire wanted to set some ground rules first.” Sam sipped his beer, watching his brother expectantly.

“Ground rules?” Dean smirked. “Why would you stop to talk about perfectly good sex when you could be having it instead?”

“Why have perfectly good sex when you can have amazing, mind-blowing sex?” Claire countered, dropping her voice almost to a purr. “You saying you don’t like a woman talking to you about all the dirty, sexy, kinky things she wants you to do to her?”

Dean swallowed visibly, and when he spoke again, his voice was noticeably lower and rougher. “What are we talking about here?”

Claire dropped her eyes to the table. “Sexually, I have a big submissive streak. I like my partners to control what’s happening. I want to be told exactly what to do. I don’t want to have to guess what will make my partner feel good.”

Both men shifted slightly in their seats. Dean reached across the table, lifting her chin until she met his eyes, even hotter and more intense than before. “Sammy told you I like to watch? And sometimes I like to play, too? You’re okay with that?”

Claire nodded, mouth suddenly dry at the mental image of what he would do if he was playing.

“How submissive are we talking?” Sam asked, sliding one big hand over her thigh, holding her gently in place. “You just want to be told what to do? Or do you want to be tied up?”

Dean smiled, slowly. “Her pupils just dilated. I think she likes that, too.”

She swallowed hard, nodding. “Tied up, tied down, even just held down. Not sure why, but it really works for me.”

Sam's hand tightened on her leg. Dean’s thumb stroked down her jaw and under her ear. “Kinky girl.” Claire blushed, but his eyes were steady and approving on hers. “If you want us to be in control, what happens if we ask you for something you absolutely, positively, will not do?”

“I say ‘red’. Red mean stop.”

The brothers nodded. “Any definite limits we should know about now?” Sam asked

“I don’t like humiliation, and I’m not into serious pain. A little spanking, a little rough, sure, but nothing hardcore.” Claire glanced between them. “What about you guys? Anything you want to throw out there?”

“Well, as it happens, sweetheart, this is your lucky day,” Dean drawled. “You found yourself two guys who like to be in control. In fact, I think Sam’s about ready to take control right now.”

Sam slid out of the booth, tugging her after him. “You got the drinks?”

“I got it. You two go have some fun.” Catching her free hand, Dean lifted it to his mouth, slowly kissing the palm, his eyes never leaving Claire’s. “I’ll be there shortly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would say I'm sorry for the cliffhanger, but that would be a dirty lie. Feedback appreciated!


	2. Ask For It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire gets what she asks for.

Sam paused outside the motel room door, still holding her hand. "Last chance to back out,"

Claire grinned up at him, anticipation coiling in her belly. "Not a chance."

He unlocked the door and pulled her inside. As soon as the door closed, he had her pressed up against the wall, his mouth fierce and hot on hers. Claire was lost in the kiss, lips and teeth and tongues meeting and exploring, all the while she was pinned to the wall by the hard, muscled length of him.

Sam slid his hands under her ass, lifting her almost effortlessly. "Wrap your legs around me," he growled, tearing his mouth away from hers. They both groaned as he settled between her legs, his erection pressing hard and hot against her. He closed his mouth over the side of her neck, scraping his teeth across her skin, and Claire arched into him, unable to do anything but respond.

He drew back briefly to pull her tank over her head, sucking in a breath at the sight of her breasts in the lacy purple bra. "You know," he murmured, tracing the line where skin met lace, “every time you leaned over to take a shot, I got a little peek at this thing. I really appreciate the role it played in driving me insane tonight, but it's got to go."

He kissed her again, and the next thing Claire noticed was her bra hitting the floor. Sam bit her earlobe lightly, then licked his way down her neck and down between her breasts. He scraped one fingernail gently across her nipple, smiling against her skin as she jerked underneath him. "You're a little sensitive there, baby. You like it when I play with these pretty tits?"

Claire moaned as his mouth closed over one nipple while his fingers stroked the other. She writhed helplessly, trapped between Sam and the wall. He licked and sucked and squeezed and stroked, moving between her breasts until her hips were arching desperately against him, the seam of her jeans rubbing against her clit, and when he pinched one nipple and closed his teeth on the other, she came screaming.

He stroked her arms gently, easing her down until her breath no longer came in huge sobbing gasps, resting his forehead against hers. "Goddamn, woman. Did you seriously come just from me playing with your tits?"

Claire flushed and dropped her eyes, but he tipped her chin up until she met his gaze. "Hey, look at me. That was the hottest thing I've seen in a long time." The grin was definitely evil this time. "Of course, now that I know you can come like that, I'm going to have to do it again so Dean can watch."

She swallowed, unbelievably aroused by that thought. Sam let her slide slowly down the wall until her feet hit the floor, then led her over to the small table in the kitchenette area. "But for now, bend over and put your hands on the table."

Claire shivered, planting her hands on the wood. Sam's hands stroked approvingly down her back. “Good girl. Stay there. I’ll be right back.”

True to his word, he was back in next to no time, holding two striped ties. He knotted one gently around each wrist, then tied each hand to a leg of the table. She had enough slack to keep her hands planted on the tabletop, but not much else. Claire tugged experimentally at the bindings, but he obviously knew his knots--they were loose enough to not cut off her circulation, but tight enough she wasn’t going anywhere. She felt her whole being relax into that knowledge, only to tense again as a pocketknife landed on the table.

“Relax, baby.” Sam was grinning again, but for once she wasn’t able to appreciate it as it deserved, distracted by watching him unbutton his shirt. “The knife is just if we have to get you out quickly for some reason. You’re not into pain, and neither are we.” He shucked off his shirt and undershirt, revealing an impressively muscular chest, moving back behind her before she really had time to appreciate the view. “Now, then, I think you’re overdressed for this party.”

She jumped a little as his hands slid down her stomach to unbutton her jeans. He took his time pushing them down her legs, pausing to slide her shoes off before removing the jeans. He paused for a moment, then she felt his thumbs sliding under the waistband of her purple panties, his hands stroking over the curves of her ass and all the way down her legs until she was completely naked and shivering in anticipation as he knelt on the floor behind her.

"Oh, yeah," Sam exhaled slowly. "That's what I've been thinking about ever since I walked into the bar and saw you bent over that pool table." Claire squeaked as he grabbed her thighs, lifting her until her knees were on the tabletop. "Now I'm going to lick this pretty pussy until you come for me again. Lean down on your elbows...yeah, just like that."

He kept his hands wrapped around her thighs, using his thumbs to spread her open to his gaze. Claire shuddered as his tongue licked a torturously slow, wet path from her clit all the way up to her ass, and then back down. He settled in like he had all the time in the world, lazily circling her clit with the tip of his tongue before delving inside her cunt, deeper each time. She slowly became aware of her own voice, moaning, breath sobbing out of her as he brought her higher and higher. Just when she thought she couldn't possibly take any more, Sam crooked two thick fingers inside of her at the same time he closed his mouth over her clit and finally, finally sucked, and she screamed his name, clenching around him.

"Damn, that was hot," Dean said from the door. It seemed to Claire that she should be worried about the fact that she hadn't noticed him come in, but her brain dismissed that as unimportant. Dean's gaze moved behind her, and she felt Sam stand up, although he left his fingers where they were. Dean shrugged off his overshirt and sat down to remove his boots. "I miss anything fun, Sammy?"

"She came just from me playing with her tits." The post-orgasm fog must finally be clearing from Claire's brain, because she swore she could hear the smug grin, even if she couldn't see it.

One side of Dean's mouth quirked up as he moved to the table and curled his hand around the nape of her neck. "Is that so?" he murmured. "We can have some fun with that later on, can't we? Maybe I'll suck on one and Sam will suck on the other and we'll see how long it takes you to get off like that."

Sam chuckled behind her. "I think she likes that idea. You're even wetter than before, baby."

Dean's fingers stroked the side of her neck and Claire sucked in a breath. He looked over his shoulder at his brother. "How many fingers?"

"Three now." Sam slid another inside of her, pushing lazily in and out. Claire pushed back as far as the ties would allow, trying to increase the pace, then jumped as Sam's hand smacked her ass, hard. "You're not calling the shots here, Claire," he growled, grabbing her hip to hold her in place as he stroked his fingers deliberately in and out of her pussy. "I am."

"You like that, don't you?" Dean purred in her ear. "You like Sam fucking you with his fingers while you're tied down." Claire nodded, dropping her forehead to the table. "What do you want, sweetheart? You want Sam to fuck you?" She nodded again, overwhelmed with sensastion. Dean moved so close his mouth was touching her ear. "Here's the deal. Sam'll fuck you...but you have to ask for it." He licked her ear, nipping gently at the earlobe. "And you have to use the dirty words. Talk dirty to us. Tell us what you want."

Claire swallowed hard. "Please fuck me, Sam." Was that her voice, all breathy and soft?

Dean chuckled in her ear. "You can do better than that, sweetheart. C'mon, I know you know the dirty words. Tell Sam exactly what you want, and you'll get it."

She hesitated. _What if they think I'm a freak?_ The small rational part of her brain still functional pointed out that she was tied to a table in a hotel room about to fuck one man while his brother watched, or possibly joined in. _I guess that ship has sailed._ She opened her eyes and turned her head to meet Dean's gaze. "I want you to fuck me, Sam. I want you to bend me over this table and pound your big, hard cock into my pussy until I scream. Please fuck me, Sam. Please."

With every word, Dean's eyes darkened and his grip on the back of her neck tightened. Almost before the last word was out of her mouth, he dragged her toward him, devouring her mouth like a starving man at a feast. Absorbed in the kiss, she almost didn't notice Sam's fingers leaving her entirely until they were gone and she moaned into Dean's mouth in protest. He broke the kiss, laughing softly. "Don't worry, sweetheart. Sam's going to fuck you. Aren't you, Sammy?" He glanced up at his brother.

"Well, she did beg so nicely." Sam lifted her gently down until her feet were on the floor, then pushed inside her in one rough, surprising thrust. "Is that what you want, baby? You want me to fuck you hard and fast?"

"Oh, God, yes, Sam, please." Claire dropped her head to the table again. Even after two orgasms, Sam still had to work his way in with short, quick thrusts. She spared a moment to be glad that he'd used a condom, but practical considerations were soon overwhelmed with waves of sensation. Once he had the full, thick length of his dick inside her, he kept the same speed, but fucked her harder, his big hands gripping her waist, positioning her at the perfect angle for his thrusts, holding her so she didn't slam into the edge of the table.

"Look at me, Claire," Dean ordered. She opened her eyes reluctantly. Dean was sitting in one of the cheap hotel chairs, jeans unzipped, fisting his cock almost lazily. Claire groaned, the visual pushing her even higher. "Do you know how hot this is? You, bent over that table, with your pretty ass in the air, moaning and begging while Sam fucks you? This is better than porn. I'm going to wake up horny for months, maybe years, and have to jack myself off, remembering how you sound, how you're so wet I can smell you from here. I can't wait to taste you, later, hear how you sound when I've got my tongue buried deep inside your pretty pussy. Does she taste good, Sammy?"

"Oh, yeah," Sam groaned. "She feels even better. Hot and wet and tight, like you wouldn't believe. Keep talking. She likes it, don't you, Claire? Like Dean talking dirty to you?"

She nodded. Smack! Sam spanked her, harder this time. "What was that? I couldn't hear you."

"Yes!" she gritted out.

"Yes, what?" Dean was smirking at her.

"Yes, I like you talking dirty to me." Claire was panting now, incredibly aroused and so close to coming she could almost taste it. Sam lifted her just a little higher, his dick slid over the perfect spot once, twice, and the third time she came, shocked breathless by the intensity. He fucked her mercilessly through the orgasm and the aftershocks, the same steady, unvarying rhythm.

"Eyes open." Dean's hand stroked gently through her hair. She opened her eyes to see him standing directly in front of her, his cock hard and thick in his other hand. "I'm gonna fuck your mouth now, sweetheart. Open up."

Claire opened her mouth obediently and he slid in, shallow and gentle at first, then deeper, until she was timing her breaths by his thrusts, his dick sliding all the way to the back of her throat. She swallowed to push back her gag reflex, loving the way he looked down at her, like he couldn't stop watching his cock disappear between her lips.

Soon they were moving in rhythm, Sam's thrusts pushing her towards Dean, Dean's pushing her toward Sam. Dean cradled her head in his hands as he fucked her mouth, Sam held her hips as he fucked her pussy. She was surrounded by them, completely under their control, and knowing that was almost enough to send her to orgasm all by itself.

"Fuck," Dean groaned. "This is even better than watching. I could fuck your mouth forever. I'm gonna come in your mouth and you're going to swallow it all for me, aren't you?"

Claire hummed her agreement, loving the way Dean shuddered at the vibrations on his dick. He looked up, probably sharing a look with Sam, and they both picked up the pace.

She sucked in a breath around Dean when Sam's finger ghosted over her ass, teasing and prodding. She tensed up until Sam smacked her ass again, hard. "You're trying to call the shots again, baby. You're not making the decisions here. We are. If you want to stop, we'll stop. Otherwise, relax and let me in."

Claire relaxed, bearing down slightly as Sam's finger slipped past the ring of muscle, hissing slightly at the burn. The finger picked up the same rhythm as their cocks inside her, and she moaned as he added another finger, stretching her gently, both of them always moving inside her.

"I want you to come for us again, like this." Sam's voice was deep and rough, and she almost thought she could come from that alone. "Dean's cock in your mouth, my cock in your pussy, my fingers in your ass. And you love every second of it, don't you?" He added a third finger, chuckling softly at the sounds she made, and the way she couldn't decide whether to pull away or push closer. He picked up the pace, Dean matching him thrust for thrust like they shared one brain. "Oh, yeah. You love it. Maybe next time I'll let Dean fuck your pussy while I fuck your ass. You're going to scream yourself hoarse from coming and you'll. Love. Every. Second."

Dean's hands fisted in her hair and his hips bucked, filling her mouth as he groaned above her. She swallowed, sucking in a breath as he pulled back, then Sam twisted his fingers, thrust deep, and growled, "Come for me," and she was, flying helplessly one more time.

When Claire could see again, Dean was gently untying her hands, calloused fingers rubbing gently over the pink marks on her wrists. She lay limply on the table, thinking vaguely about moving, and he chuckled, stroking a hand down her back. "I think we wore her out, Sammy."

Sam's answering chuckle was her only warning before he lifted her and carried her to one of the beds, laying her gently down before stretching out next to her, one arm cradling her close. "Seems only fair. I'm about ready for a nap, myself." He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "That was incredibly hot, in case you didn't realize."

Dean curled himself into her other side, his hand resting on her belly. "Nap does sound pretty good," he mumbled, his voice muffled as he tucked his face into her neck. "Game called on account of nap."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost have the next chapter finished, so hopefully that will be up soon. In the meantime, hopefully you enjoy what there is so far.


	3. Just For a Little While

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire gets the best kind of wake-up call.

Claire's eyes flew open as two mouths closed over her nipples at the same time. She writhed helplessly under the two simultaneous sensations. Sam scraped his teeth over her nipple, lightly at first, then harder, while Dean sucked and licked, long strokes of his tongue. Her hips bucked, seeking more sensation as they drove her higher and higher, but they pinned her down, each of them holding a wrist and a thigh, and that made it so much worse and so much better all at the same time. She was begging, high and breathless, "Sam," and "Dean," and "Please," and "God," and “Fuck,” and when they both bit down lightly, she came.

When she could breathe again, Dean was wearing that ridiculously sexy smirk. "My turn to eat that pretty pussy. You going to scream for me like you did for Sam?"

Claire gave him the smirk right back. "Maybe, if you're as good at it as he is."

“Sammy, go get those ties. We’re gonna need them.” Dean threaded his fingers through her hair and leaned down to kiss her, softly and sweetly. As something soft wrapped her wrist, he broke the kiss, expertly knotting her wrist into the tie, then fastening it around her thigh. He made quick work of the other wrist, then sat back to admire his handiwork before meeting her eyes again.

“Let me tell you a little secret, sweetheart.” He leaned in, never breaking eye contact. “I taught Sammy everything he knows--”

“Hey!” Sam settled back against the headboard, looking both amused and affronted. “I know some girls who would beg to differ.”

“Yeah, whatever, dude.” The smirk was back, full force. “But I didn’t teach him everything I know. And because you decided to be a little smart-ass, you’re gonna come for me twice before I fuck you. Now…” Dean looked her over proprietarily. “Where to start?”

He skimmed his fingertips down her legs, barely touching, and she shivered. The corner of his mouth tilted upward even further as he slid down to the foot of the bed, placing a soft kiss on the inside of her ankle. He licked and nipped his way up the inside of her leg, pausing at the back of her knee until she writhed against him before continuing upward. By the time he made it to her pussy, she was shuddering, but he skipped right over it and started working his way down the other leg, holding her ankles down as he feasted on her skin.

“Fuck, please, Dean,” she groaned brokenly, just enough awareness left to feel his lips curve against the sensitive place at the back of her knee before his teeth scraped gently over the skin. She would have jumped off the bed if his hands on her ankles hadn't anchored her. It was too much, but not enough to come. She needed more, and he knew it.

"Please, Dean, what?" he mocked gently, grinning up at her. "What do you want, sweetheart? Want me to lick your clit and your pussy? Want me to fuck you with my tongue and my fingers? Want me to make you come?"

"God, yes, please." Claire was beyond being embarrassed at the words and sounds coming out of her mouth, beyond thinking about anything but needing to come.

Dean moved up, settling between her legs, broad shoulders spreading her legs wide, his breath on her cunt making her hips roll shamelessly toward his mouth. He met her eyes, all confidence and heat and anticipation. "You ready to scream for me?"

Without waiting for an answer, he spread her wide and licked, slow, exploratory swipes up, and down, circling her clit, so good, so wet and hot. "Dean...God...please...don't stop..."

He licked his way down and inside, curling his tongue to find the perfect spot, and she did scream, then, his name the only sound that escaped as she came, sensations so sharp and clear they almost hurt.

“Good girl,” he murmured, lifting his face to smile at her, his mouth wet from her. “Sammy, you can help me with this next one. Your turn for the dirty talk, since my mouth is going to be occupied.”

Claire shuddered as Dean’s mouth latched onto her clit, still almost painfully sensitive. She could feel her legs start to shake from his unrelenting assault. The next orgasm wasn’t going to take long at all at this rate; and that was before Sam started purring filthy words into her ear.

“Dean was right. This is better than porn. Fuck, Claire, I could get off just listening to the sounds you make. Everyone in this motel can hear you, hear how turned on you are, hear how much you want us. I guarantee every guy here is jerking off right now, wishing he was the reason you keep screaming.”

Claire moaned, the combination of Dean’s mouth on her clit and Sam’s voice in her ear almost too much to take. Dean crooked two fingers inside her cunt and began thrusting, never letting up on her clit, and her hips jerked, tension rising as he stroked her g-spot perfectly with each thrust. Sam’s voice darkened even more as he moved closer, the hard thrust of his dick pressing into her hip, one big hand splayed over her stomach to hold her down.

“God, so greedy. Just came once and already about to come again. You’re gonna come for us whenever we want, aren’t you, baby? Gonna come all over Dean’s face while he fucks you with his fingers. And we're not gonna stop there. I'm gonna hold you down while Dean fucks you. I bet he can't wait to see how good it feels to get his cock inside that tight, wet, pussy. You're gonna be pinned down so you can't move. You'll just have to take it, take however he fucks you. You'll know you can stop it, any time you want. All you have to do is say the word and we'll stop." Sam's fingers stroked over her stomach, still holding her down almost effortlessly. "But you don't want us to stop, do you? You want us to hold you down and fuck you until you come. Again and again and again until you've forgotten what it feels like to not have us inside you."

Claire bucked helplessly against Sam's restraining hand, the scream that ripped out of her throat so high-pitched that it was almost inaudible. The only things that were really real to her were the press of Sam's cock into her hip and his hand on her stomach, anchoring her through the orgasm, Dean's mouth on her clit and his fingers curled in her pussy. She didn't realize her hands were free until they started gently rubbing her wrists, trying to erase the faint marks from where she'd twisted against the bonds.

She shoved away the cherished feeling, opening her eyes to focus on the reality. This wasn't a relationship. This was a really hot threesome that was not over yet. She slowly stroked a hand up Sam's arm, then Dean's, enjoying the chance to finally touch, letting her hands linger on the swell and dip of muscles that flexed restlessly under her hands.

Threading her fingers through their hair, she tugged Dean down for a kiss, lazily twining her tongue with his, tasting her own salty musk on his mouth. Breaking the kiss, she licked her lips, unable to stop a smile as his eyes darkened in response. Turning her head, she pulled Sam into a kiss, letting him taste the residue of her juices on her tongue. He growled against her lips, exploring every last corner of her mouth, like he was afraid to miss a trace of her taste. He lifted his head an eternity later, glancing up at his brother, who was standing at the end of the bed, rolling a condom slowly down onto his cock.

"How do you want her, Dean?"

Dean closed his hands over her ankles, tugging her down until her hips were almost at the edge of the bed. "There we go. Hold her arms down for me, Sammy."

Sam moved until he was kneeling by her head, pinning her wrists to the mattress in a gentle but implacable grip. The fact that he could hold both of her wrists in one hand made her shiver. "Like this?"

"Just like that," Dean purred, sliding inside in one smooth stroke, never breaking eye contact as she pulled and tugged, trying to get loose. "You should've felt how wet she got when you were talking to her. I thought she was gonna come right there when you told her you were gonna hold her down, the way her pussy clamped down on my fingers." He pressed her knees back toward her chest, holding her open for his thrusts. "Shit, sweetheart, I didn't think anything would feel better than fucking your mouth, but I'm enjoying this almost as much as you are." He chuckled. "Sammy definitely is."

She rolled her head to the side to see that Sam had taken matters into his own hands, fist squeezing his dick. She licked her lips, and both brothers groaned. Dean turned her face back to him, speeding up his thrusts. "You want to suck him off, I'll let you, but not yet. Right now, I'm gonna fuck you, and you can't stop me. Can you?"

Claire shuddered. She could feel the rush of wetness, the involuntary reaction to Dean's question, as well as he could, and she flushed as he chuckled, closing her eyes.

"Look at me, Claire." His voice carried the unmistakable snap of command, and her eyes opened almost of their own volition. "I asked you a question."

"No." Her voice was ragged, wrecked by everything they'd done together. "I can't stop you."

He rewarded her with a slow, lingering lick over one nipple. "And you love that, don't you? You love Sammy holding you down while I fuck you. You're dripping wet because you're helpless, and that turns you on. Knowing I can do whatever I want. I could fuck you slow and gentle so it takes you an hour to come, or I can pound you into the mattress. You don't know what I'm gonna do, but it's up to me, and that gets you so hot you could almost come right now, couldn't you?"

She groaned, but knew better than to deny him the answer. "Yes."

"Yes, what?" Dean prompted, mouth hovering over the other nipple, smiling as she shivered when his breath whispered over her skin.

"Fuck," she groaned. "Yes, I love it. I love you fucking me while Sam holds me down. I love knowing you can do whatever you want to me. I'm about to come just thinking about it."

She felt more than heard the stroke of Sam's hand speed up next to her as Dean hummed his approval, licking her nipple with slow, rasping strokes that matched the thrust of his cock in her pussy. He scraped his teeth over the other nipple, chuckling as she bowed up underneath him. "Good girl. I think you deserve a reward for that. What do you think, Sam?"

Sam groaned. "I think she deserves a fucking medal, but I'm not gonna be able to take much more of this."

Dean slid out of her, smirking at the noise she made, and climbed up onto the bed, bracing his back against the headboard. "Go ahead and let her up. C'mere, sweetheart."

Sam released her arms and sat back, waiting. Claire crawled hesitantly toward Dean, and he pulled her into his lap for a heated kiss that didn't end until they were both gasping and grinding against each other. He turned her until her back was against his chest, her legs straddling his, and guided her down onto his dick, both of them groaning as he sank fully inside her. “That’s it,” he murmured in her ear, and she shivered as his breath ghosted across the sensitive skin of her neck. “Fuck, you feel amazing. I wish I could stay like this forever. But poor Sammy’s been a bit left out. I’m gonna let you suck him now, okay?”

Claire nodded, squirming as Dean’s hands closed over her breasts. “Get over here, Sammy,” he ordered.

Sam didn’t wait to be told twice, kneeling in front of Claire and sliding his cock into her mouth, shallowly at first, then deeper and harder until she was taking all of him with each thrust. He laced his fingers through her hair, tugging gently to set the pace, and she never thought of hair-pulling as something that would turn her on, but it’s just one more sensation driving her higher.

She tried her best to stay focused on Sam, at least enough to make sure it wass good for him, but Dean was hitting the perfect spot with every thrust, and his fingers were playing her nipples like he’d touched her a million times, like he was inside her mind and could feel what she wanted before she could ask for it. She was vaguely amazed by the sounds she was making, even with Sam’s cock in her mouth, but she couldn’t focus on that, couldn’t focus on anything except the orgasm hovering just out of reach, and then Dean slid one hand down to stroke her clit as he bit down on her neck, and she came, swallowing instinctively as Sam groaned and came into her mouth, fingers tightening in her hair, holding her in place for his final thrust. Before she could process that, before her brain was even functioning again, Dean’s hands slid down to her hips, holding her down, and buried himself deep inside her as he came.

For a moment, she was trapped, pinned between two hard, male bodies, and damn if that didn’t start the wheels turning again, but then the three of them collapsed onto the bed in a tangle of sweaty limbs and gasping, shuddering breaths. Claire had the fleeting thought that she should probably start locating her clothes and leave, but Sam’s arm was around her waist and Dean’s legs were tangled with hers, and God, it was so good, just to touch and be touched, skin on skin, to not feel lonely, to not be alone, just for a little while, that she let herself drift off to sleep.

Just for a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Managed to turn out the rest of this bit in a surprising burst of productivity. Going to try to keep this streak going as long as I can. This bit may be a little rough, since I haven't taken the time to reread and refine at as much as the earlier parts. Feedback welcomed, and if anybody wants to beta this for me, I would worship you forever.


	4. Back to Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire tries to sneak out. Morning-after fluff.

Morning light filtering through the gap in the curtains woke Claire, pulling her gently toward awareness. She resisted, not wanting to lose the feeling of warmth and comfort, but the half-seen unfamiliar shapes around her brought her fully awake.

They weren’t quite as entangled as they had been when she fell asleep. Sometime during the night Dean had shifted to his stomach, although he still had one leg hooked over hers. Sam was sprawled on his back and she was almost lying on top of him. She let herself savor the warmth of skin and the feeling of breathing bodies for a few minutes longer, then started extricating herself with slow, smooth movements.

She bit her lip to keep from giggling as she remembered the last time she'd needed to use these skills--when her sister, Amanda, was 3 years old and refused to nap unless Claire would lie down with her--but managed to successfully navigate her way to the foot of the bed with no more reaction than a quiet grunt from Dean. She paused for a moment to appreciate the two well-muscled bodies that somehow managed to take up almost all of the surface area of the very large bed, then started the scavenger hunt for her clothes.

Jeans, underwear, and shoes were scattered around the room; Sam had apparently tossed them away at random after peeling them off of her. Her bra was on the floor, but her tank top had somehow managed to land on top of the light fixture next to the door.

Claire started to get dressed, paused, and glanced back at the bed. Neither of the men had so much as twitched as she moved around the room. She weighed the benefits of a quick scrub versus the chance of waking them, and decided the walk back to the bar would be much more pleasant after a shower.

Watching the bed for any signs of movement, she slipped quietly into the bathroom, closing the door softly behind her. She tied her hair up with the band she kept in the pocket of her jeans and turned on the water, waiting for it to warm before stepping into the suprisingly roomy shower. She bit back a moan as the hot spray hit her back, rotating her neck from side to side. She scrubbed off quickly, hoping the shower hadn't woken them, but took a moment to luxuriate in the warmth, bracing her hands on the shower wall and letting the water fall over as much of her body as possible.

Reluctantly, she killed the water and dried off briskly with one of the scratchy hotel towels before pulling on her clothes. Wiping the steam from the mirror, she pulled her hair down, making a face at the mess. Two marathon sessions had left her with sex hair, and not the sexy Hollywood kind. She raked it back up into a messy ponytail, deciding that was the least humiliating option, turned off the light, and pulled the door cautiously open, then froze in the doorway.

"Trying to sneak out on us?" Sam sounded amused. He stretched slowly, still completely naked, and grinned as Claire blushed, trying not to stare at his erection. "If you want to go, no problem, but I'd really like it if you let us buy you breakfast."

She grinned back, trying to keep her eyes on his face, for politeness' sake if nothing else. "I wasn't sure what the morning-after etiquette was. We didn't really discuss it."

He moved to her and ducked his head for a long, steamy kiss that left her breathless and wishing that she hadn't put on her clothes. "Well, I lost my copy of Miss Manners, but I'm pretty sure breakfast is allowed."

"Or you could take your clothes off and come back to bed," Dean said, scrubbing a hand over his face as he sat on the side of the bed. "Or in the shower with us. We haven't done shower sex yet."

Claire cocked her head to the side. "Are you seriously trying to talk me into the shower with you before your eyes are even open?"

He opened them long enough to shoot her an irritated look. "I'm not a morning person. So sue me. Of course, I'm usually a lot happier after morning sex, but somebody has too many clothes on for that."

She was about to suggest he come over and take them back off of her, but her stomach chose that point to make a loud, embarrassing, "feed me now, damnit!" rumble, clearly audible to all three of them. And then Dean's stomach did, too, as if in answer, and all three of them started laughing helplessly.

"Fine, we'll do breakfast," Dean grumbled when he could breathe again, standing up and shoving past them into the bathroom, completely unselfconscious of his nakedness and his very obvious hard-on. "But if I have to jack off in the shower, so do you, Sammy. No blow jobs while I'm in there, or we'll never get out of here before we starve to death."

"Well, damn," Sam murmured, kissing her one more time, lingering over her mouth. "There goes my brilliant plan for the morning." He raised his head. "You're blushing again."

Claire silently cursed her fair skin, for probably the billionth time in her life. "Curse of an almost-redhead." She tugged on the ends of her hair, eyeing the auburn color out of the corner of her eye. "It hasn't been carrot-red since I was 4, but I've still got the skin."

He grinned, tapping the tip of her nose with one finger. “And the freckles. It’s cute.”

She rolled her eyes as he turned away, pulling clean clothes out of a duffel. “Great. That’s exactly what every woman wants to hear from the guy she just spent the night fucking. That she’s cute.”

“You are cute.” Sam turned, hands full of clothes, as they heard the water shut off. “You’re also hot. Sexy. And if Dean wouldn’t kick my ass for getting between him and bacon, I’d throw you down on that bed right now and prove it.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Dean growled, toweling himself off as he walked out of the bathroom. “Get your ass in the shower, Sam, or so help me God, I’ll leave you here.”

 

Claire took them to her favorite diner, a tiny place within walking distance of both the motel and the bar. It was early enough that the hungover students hadn't dragged themselves out of bed yet, so they actually managed to score one of the booths.

The waitress appeared almost as soon as they'd settled in, Dean ushering Claire into the booth ahead of him. She slapped menus down in front of Sam & Dean, filling their coffee cups and whisking Claire's away. "Hey, sweetie. Dave's got your bacon on the grill. I'll be right back with your water."

"Come here often?" Dean scanned the single-page menu, lips pursed in thought.

"This is the only place in town that cooks bacon the way I like it," Claire said, leaning back against the back of the booth. "I'm a picky eater. I like my food to be the way I want it. And I like my bacon completely crispy, but not burnt. You'd be surprisedhow hard it is to find a restaurant that can manage that."

"So, besides the bacon, what's good here?" Sam asked.

"Honestly, I've never had anything I didn't like. If you like greasy diner breakfasts, this is basically heaven."

He grinned at her. "We may have to roll Dean out of here, then."

Dean grinned at his brother. "Bitch."

"Jerk."

The waitress came back with Claire's ice water. "You boys ready to order?"

Sam handed her his menu. "Three eggs, medium, hashbrowns and toast, please."

"You got it," she said, jotting it down on her notepad, then turning to Dean. "And you?"

"Same for me, but biscuits and gravy instead of toast, and a side of bacon." Dean passed his menu over as well.

"Sure thing, hon. It'll be out pretty quick, but let me know if you need anything." She bustled back to the kitchen clearing plates off a table on her way.

Silence settled over the table. Claire drew circles in the condensation from her water glass. "So, uh, you guys do this a lot?"

"Breakfast in greasy diners?" Dean stretched his arm across the back of the booth, curling his hand around her shoulder. "Or breakfast in greasy diners with hot girls we picked up and fucked?"

Claire blushed again, and she swore she could feel Sam grinning at her from across the table. She looked. Yup. Dimples and all.

"Really more of the second, I guess..." she trailed off. "I'm really nosy sometimes, and it's none of my business. But last night didn't seem like the first time you two have done that."

"We had...kind of a weird childhood," Sam said.

She snorted. "Join the club. We meet at the bar."

They both grinned at that one. "Our dad traveled a lot, for work, and he didn't have anyone he trusted to take care of us long-term, so we basically grew up on the road, living out of motel rooms and short-term apartments. Not a lot of privacy. We didn't start out sharing, but we figured out pretty early that we both like to watch. It just kind of grew into this." Sam sipped his coffee. "It's not what's typically considered normal, but everybody's got their kinks."

"I like to think of it as live porn," Dean put in. "And, bonus, I get to be part of the action."

Sam shrugged. "We make sure the girls know what they're getting into and are okay with it, and we make sure they have a good time. Everybody wins."

"Fair enough." Claire was about to say more, but the waitress was back with their food, loading the table with plates. She smirked as Sam and Dean glanced between their breakfasts and hers.

"You're gonna eat all that?" Dean eyed her four eggs, four slices of bacon, hashbrowns, and short stack of pancakes as if trying to decide what he could steal.

"Hell yeah I am." Claire drizzled syrup over the pancakes, spreading it evenly, then dug in, alternating bites of each, balancing the salty and sweet. "You guys wore me out. I need fuel if I'm gonna hit the gym later."

"Oh, yeah?" Dean took a bite of his bacon and groaned blissfully. "You were right. This is heaven. I'm never leaving."

"So, what do you do at the gym?" Sam asked between bites. "Yoga? Pilates?"

Claire smiled sweetly, cutting another bite of pancake. "Powerlifting."

They both stared at her, startled. "Powerlifting?" Dean asked. "Like, with the bars and the big weights?"

Claire swallowed the food in her mouth before answering. "I placed third in my weight class at the last competition I did. If I can get my bench press up, I should be able to start winning some. I had the highest weight in deadlift and second highest squat."

"Damn," Sam said, eyeing her appraisingly. "You don't _look_ like She-Hulk."

She shrugged, forking up the last bite of pancakes. "I'm not really interested in getting my body fat down low enough that I look super ripped. I perform better with a decent reserve. Plus, I'd like to keep my boobs."

"Amen to that." Dean finished the last of his breakfast and sat back with a contented sigh. "You should definitely keep your boobs. I'm a big fan."

"I kind of got that impression." Finishing her own food, Claire echoed his sigh. "Not that this hasn't been fun, guys, but unless you're planning on sweeping me off to your vacation home in the Alps to be your love slave, I have things I need to do before I get back to reality on Monday."

"Sure we can't interest you in round three?" Sam's voice was teasing, but his eyes were serious.

Regretfully, she shook her head. "Probably not a good idea. It's been amazing, really, but I need to get back to real life."

"Need a ride?" Dean asked.

"Nah. My apartment's not far from here. That's why I was at that bar in the first place; if I decide I want to get drunk, I don't have to worry about driving." Claire slid out of the booth and smiled at both of them. "Seriously, nice to meet you two. Best Saturday night I've had in a while. And thanks for breakfast."

"It was very definitely our pleasure," Sam said, treating her to the grin one more time before she turned and walked out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No plot yet, and no porn in this chapter either. One or the other (or both) are coming, I swear! 
> 
> Also, who wouldn't want to be a Winchester love slave, vacation home in the Alps or not?


	5. The Language of Winchester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire discovers exactly who she slept with. Also, there are feels all over the place, tread carefully.
> 
> Here there be plot! I knew it was around here somewhere.

Claire hit play on her computer and began singing along with Five Finger Death Punch as she pulled on gloves and laid out two sheets of polyester film. With painstaking slowness, she unrolled the papyrus scroll onto the film, keeping the fragmented sheet as close together as possible. Laying the second sheet of film on top, she spot-welded the film together, then lifted the whole piece and sandwiched it between two pieces of UV-resistant film.

Breathing a little easier now that the scroll was protected, she set it gently on the scanner bed, scanned it, and double-checked the scan quality (and that it had been uploaded to her backup) before inserting the scroll in a Plexiglass-topped shadowbox for display.

"Thirty-six down, seventy-nine to go," she muttered, rolling her neck from side to side, trying to release some of the tension that always crept into her shoulders. Resisting the urge to check the scan and see if she recognized anything, she turned back toward the table, hips swaying slightly to the music.

"Excuse me, ma'am, we're looking for Dr. Ryan?"

Claire jumped, reaching for the speakers to turn down her music before turning to see who had invaded her lab. For a fanciful minute she wondered if she was hallucinating, but no, it was Sam and Dean dressed in suits, hair slicked back, gaping at her.

"Claire?" Sam obviously hadn't been expecting her, either. "You're Dr. Ryan?"

She shrugged self-consciously. "That's what it says on my student loans."

"You're a librarian?" Dean nudged his brother. "Well there's one for your bucket list, Sammy."

Sam smacked Dean on the shoulder. "Shut up, jerk."

"Bitch."

"Boys." Claire fought back a smile. "As nice as it is to see you again, what brings you to my humble lab?"

They reached into their jackets and pulled out badge folios with FBI badges. "Agents Wayne and Parker, FBI."

Claire's brain kicked back into gear, and her eyes narrowed. "Bullshit."

Both men flinched. Dean tried for an appealing grin. "Excuse me?"

"I'm pretty sure the FBI isn't sending brothers out as partners, for much the same reason the military doesn't let family members serve together. You're not FBI, you're hunters." They stared at her, and she blinked rapidly for a moment before the penny dropped.

"Sam and Dean. Shit, how could I be so stupid?" She stripped off her gloves, tossing them in the bin. "And they say men think with their dicks. Brothers named Sam and Dean. Only I could go out for a drink and end up fucking the goddamn Winchesters."

Visibly bemused, they tucked their badges away. Dean pursed his lips, staring at her. "You're not a hunter."

"No shit, Sherlock," she snapped, pacing away for a minute, trying to get her anger under control.

"So how do you know about hunters?" he persisted. "Hell, how do you know about us?"

She snorted out a humorless laugh. "You're kidding, right? Everybody who knows anything about the supernatural knows about you two. You stopped the fucking apocalypse...you know, after you started it. And that was just the opening act."

"Yeah, but how do you know?" Sam joined in, eyes hard. "Most people have no idea the supernatural exists. You're not a hunter. Are you human?"

"As human as you are." She met two sets of disbelieving eyes and rolled hers. "Fine, test me. Might as well get it out of the way."

A swig of holy water and a cut with a silver blade later, she slapped a band-aid over the cut. "Satisfied?"

Dean looked stubborn. "You still haven't explained how you know supernatural stuff exists."

"That...is a long story, and I don't want to tell it here." Claire glanced at her watch. "I'm going to need a drink to get through it. How about I buy you lunch and you can hear my sob story if you really want to know."

Sam swept a hand toward the door. "Lead the way."

 

Once they were settled into a corner booth with drinks in front of them, Claire took a drink, a deep breath, and began.

"I was married." She felt, rather than saw, them flinch, and plowed on. "We met in college, and...it was good, you know? Not like sappy, fairy-tale, eyes-meeting-across-a-crowded-room perfect, but good. Not a lot of drama and bullshit. It worked. Really well."

She took another drink, organizing her thoughts. "I grew up in a really religious family, and I pretty much got away from that in college, but Jake always believed. He wasn't a pain about it, never bugged me about the fact that I didn't, but he did. It wasn't a big deal. But last year, when the angels fell..." she swallowed, hard. "He said yes."

Sam reached out and covered her hand with his own. Dean moved closer until his leg was pressed against hers. Claire shook her head. "God, I was so pissed. I told him it wouldn't go well...hell, I was more than half convinced he was crazy. But he was stubborn, and he believed, so he let Jophiel in."

"Jophiel." Dean exchanged a glance with Sam, who shook his head minutely. "Not ringing a bell."

Claire grinned humorlessly. "Jake didn't want to do it without my agreement, and I drove a hard bargain. If some angel was going to be riding around inside my husband, I made him agree to stay out of the infighting, and he had to ward both of us so angels couldn't find us."

Dean shuddered a little. "Ribs?"

"Yeah. I made him throw in warding against demonic possession, too. I figured if angels were real, then demons probably were, too, and it would be just our luck to get caught in a crossfire."

Sam rubbed his thumb comfortingly across her wrist. "So what happened?"

Claire drained the last of her drink. "Jophiel didn't really want to go looking for the other angels. He and Metatron used to be 'companions' and he was afraid they'd take it out on him. He got bored just hanging out, though. He taught me Enochian, Sumerian, some other ancient languages."

"Wait." Sam stared at her disbelievingly. "You know Enochian."

She shrugged. "I'm good with languages, especially dead ones. I'm fluent in Ancient Greek and Latin, too."

"What are you a doctor of, exactly?" Dean asked.

"Anthropology and Ancient History. That and $5 will get you a latte," Claire said. "My masters is in Library Science. Tens of thousands of dollars in student loans and jobs that pay just enough I to get them paid off around the time I retire. What else could I want?”

“So what happened with Jophiel and your husband?” Sam asked, keeping his hand on hers

“Like I said, he taught me stuff.” Claire nodded her thanks at the waitress who brought her a fresh drink. “He got bored, so he would...rest, I guess, some of the time and Jake would be in control. So it wasn’t like Jake was gone; he just wasn’t there all the time.

"Toward the end, when Jophiel was in control, he’d tell me some of what was going on. What he was hearing from the other angels. He told me about you two and Castiel. What you’d done before, the apocalypse and the Leviathans, and all that stuff. How you were trying to stop Metatron. Like the scariest bedtime stories ever. Knowing all this was going on, and not being able to do anything to affect the outcome, just having to hide and hope it would all be over soon...it was horrible.

“One day I came home from work and Jake was dead on the floor. Stabbed in the heart, burned out. Had to be an angel blade.” She shook her head. “The worst part is, I have no idea what happened. How they found him, who it was, nothing. And I probably never will.”

Sam tightened his grip on her hand. Dean leaned his shoulder into hers. Claire refused to look up. If either of them were looking the least bit sympathetic, she would cry. At least they weren't feeding her empty words about how Jake was in a better place.

“So, anyway, that’s how I know who you are. Care to tell me what you were doing in my lab with your bullshit fake FBI badges?”

She could practically feel them exchanging glances over her head. She sighed. "Fine, let's play Sherlock Holmes. Jophiel told me about how Dean took the Mark of Cain to try and defeat Abaddon and Metatron. Common sense says that's not all sunshine and lollipops. You guys probably want a way to get rid of the Mark.

"In the meantime, I'm currently processing scrolls that were discovered after an earthquake in Egypt. There are indications that these scrolls are copies made of scrolls from the Great Library at Alexandria, before the fire, and at least one is an early copy of the Pentateuch. You two are hoping that there might be something in there that tells you how to deal with the Mark, so you're trying to get copies of the scrolls." She met their eyes challengingly. "How am I doing so far?"

They exchanged glances. Slight eyebrow lift from Sam, tiny shrug from Dean. "Pretty good, actually," Dean said.

"Pretty good?" Sam scoffed. "She's exactly right, and you know it."

"Fine." Dean took another drink of his beer. "So, can we have copies?"

Claire shrugged. "No reason not to. I can give you access to my online backup of the scans so you can download them for yourself. How's your Ancient Greek?"

Both men grimaced. Claire smirked.

"I can translate them for you. I'd guess it's going to be about another week or two until I'm done processing. Once they're ready for display, my contract with the library will be over and I'll have more time to work on the translations. I can email them to you as they're completed, so you don't have to hang around Manhattan until I'm done."

"I can help, but my Greek is pretty limited," Sam said.

Conversation paused as the food arrived. They devoted themselves to their food for a few minutes, waiting until the waitress was out of earshot.

"So, you said your contract with the library wil be up," Sam noted, pouring dressing on his salad. "You don't work there full-time?"

Claire swallowed a bite of her salad. "Nope. I'm kind of a specialist; most places don't need someone like me full-time. I'd love to get on with a museum, but there's a lot of competition for those jobs. I do a lot of freelance translating, some tech writing, consulting for private collectors, that kind of thing. It all adds up to enough most months. Whenever I get a contract like this one, it lets me build up a cushion for when there's not enough other work to pay the bills."

"So you travel around a lot?" Dean asked, chewing his burger.

"If I need to," she said. "This is pretty much home base; I got a nice contract early on that let me buy my apartment outright, so I don't have to worry about rent, and I usually get travel expenses written into my contract. Most of what I do can be done pretty much anywhere there's a decent Internet connection. I don't travel as much as guys like you, but if I feel like taking off for awhile, I can, as long as the money's there."

Claire could see that Sam and Dean were having a whole conversation in facial expressions and body language. The anthropologist in her itched to study them, to learn what Sam's eye roll and Dean's smirk meant in the language of Winchester, but she deliberately dropped her eyes to her food. Getting even more mixed up with these men was not a good idea. Not if she wanted any shot at a normal life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More smut to come soon, I promise!


	6. Don't Want to Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Sam manage to be honest with each other.

With a sigh, Claire slipped the last scroll into its display case, feeling the warring senses of accomplishment and loss that always came at the end of a successful project. Removing her gloves, she glanced around the climate-controlled lab one last time. She gathered all of the little personal items that somehow always migrated into her work space, stuffing them into a tote bag, then turned off the lights and left, locking the door behind her.

Before she could wallow any further, her phone buzzed. Fishing it out of her pocket, she saw a text from Sam.

_Got the last scan. Finished?_

Smiling, she texted back.  _Now the real work can begin! Tomorrow._

 

Buzz.  _Slacker_

 

Claire rolled her eyes. _Hey, a girl's gotta eat. And we both know how much I like to eat._

The reply was almost instant. _And be eaten._

Claire could feel the blush spreading over her face as she stared at the last message. Sam had given her phone numbers and email addresses to keep in touch with them before the brothers had left town to go wherever they went and do whatever they were doing while they waited for some kind of direction on how to remove the Mark from Dean. She and Sam had fallen into an easy routine of texts or emails back and forth, usually him asking questions about the scrolls she'd scanned that day and her responding. Sometimes she asked him about what they were up to, and he'd tell her about their latest hunt.

This was the first time he'd ever referenced the night they met. Not that she'd forgotten, sometimes she thought every erotic detail was forever burned into her memory, but her brain had compartmentalized. "Research Sam" was a separate person from "Sex Sam," at least in her mind. And now one tiny text message, three little words, and all she could think about was Sam's mouth on her, or Dean's head between her legs while Sam's deep, rich voice purred filthy words in her ear.

Claire had no idea how long she stood there, staring blankly at her phone. Long enough for the screen to go black. Shaking her head, she stuffed the phone back into her pocket, hefted her bag onto her shoulder, and headed to the library director's office for her final report.

  
Claire sank into her couch with a sigh. Normally she took some time after finishing a contract to rest her brain, switch gears from one project to another, but tonight she felt restless, unable to settle in and relax like she usually did. She thought about heading down to the bar for a couple of solo games of pool, but that reminded her of Sam and Dean, which made her even more restless.

Her phone rang, startling her. _Probably a telemarketer_ , she thought, answering it without checking the screen. "Hello?"

"Claire, it's Sam."

"Sam?" Surprise made her voice squeak. Great. Way to make a good impression. "Uh, hi."

She could hear the grin in his voice, see dimples flashing in her mind's eye. "Were you expecting someone else?"

"No!" she said. "No, I, uh, don't really get a lot of calls. I was just surprised it was an actual person and not a robotic telemarketing call."

"I..." It was Sam's turn to sound uncertain. "I wanted to apologize about that last text. If it offended you, or made you uncomfortable. I just..."

Silence. "Sam? You still there?"

"Yeah. You know...forget it. I just wanted to say sorry if it bothered you. We're going to be working together on these translations. I don't want  you to be uncomfortable."

Claire curled into the corner of the couch. "What were you going to say before?"

Sam inhaled, hesitated for so long she thought he wasn’t going to say anything. "I was going to say that I know you were upset when you found out who we are, but...God, Claire. Being with you...it was good. Great. Amazing. Mind-blowing. If you hadn't pegged us as hunters, we probably would've tried to talk you into another round, or more, for as long as we were in town."

His voice dropped to the low purr that did such unbelievable things to her insides, rumbling dark and rich with just that hint of rasp. "I want to fuck you again. I think about it when I'm jerking off in the shower in the morning, or in bed when I can't sleep. I think about how your pussy felt around my cock, and about how much I loved fucking your mouth. I think about all the things we didn't get to try, and I imagine how hard you'd scream for us if we did them."

"I..." Claire's mouth was dry, and her voice had gone breathy. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. I just...I wanted to be honest with you. If you're not interested, you're not interested. I'm not going to try and pressure you into anything, and neither is Dean. We won't make this uncomfortable for you. This can be all business if you want."

Claire swallowed. "What about Dean? What does he want?"

Sam laughed. "Baby, I can count the number of women Dean's taken to breakfast on the fingers of one hand and have fingers left over. I guarantee you he wants to fuck you again, too." She heard Dean's voice, indistinct in the background. "What, Dean, are you saying you don't want to?" Silence. "That's what I thought."

"So, what," she asked, "you want to be fuck-buddies? Friends with benefits? What are we talking about, here?"

"What do you want, Claire?" he challenged. "You're good at telling us what you want in bed. How about now? What do you want from us?"

Her heart was pounding like she'd been running for her life. "I...I don't know."

Sam's voice was gentle. "That's okay. Start small. Do you want to be with us again?"

"Yes." The answer slipped out before she could second-guess it, before she could take it back. Truth, hanging there in the open where anyone could take it, use it to beat and batter her.

He exhaled, like he'd been holding his breath. "Okay. Do you want to spend time with us? Get to know us? Or do you want it to be just sex, and then just business?"

It took two tries to get the words out. "I don't want it to be just sex. I...I like you, both of you. I want to get to know you."

"We do, too," Sam said. "Both of us."

In the background she could hear Dean again, and this time she could understand that he was saying "Hopefully naked." She laughed, helplessly, and Sam laughed with her, his deep voice reassuring in her ear. But when the laughter ended and silence fell again, insecurity came creeping in with it.

"Why me?" Claire leaned her head back, closing her eyes. "I think I can safely assume I'm not the first girl you two have played with. I know enough about you two to know you don't really do long-term relationships, except with each other." She rubbed the heel of her hand against her forehead. "I'm a mess, Sam. I've only been in one relationship in my life, and now I'm a 31-year-old widow. I'm so fucked up in the head that I get lost in there sometimes. You guys should be running for the hills instead of trying to get to know me."

Sam's laugh was completely humorless. "Baby, you want to talk fucked up in the head? I was so broken that I had a hallucination of Lucifer riding shotgun in my head for almost a year. And before that I had the real deal hunting me. Dean's not any better, either. We're not exactly prizes, Claire. Most of the women I’ve fallen for ended up dead. I should be telling you to get as far away from us as possible, instead of trying to talk you into giving us a shot."

Her heart broke at the ache in his voice. She felt it echo in the raw, hurting spot inside of her where Jake had been ripped out of her life. When she could speak, her voice was small, but steady. "I don't want to run."

"Me either."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really meant for there to be phone sex in this chapter, but there were feels instead. I'll have to hold that phone sex scene in reserve for another time.


	7. Ground Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire still doesn't know how to interpret Winchester. And there is pie.

Claire hastily licked her fingers clean of cinnamon and sugar before answering the ringing phone. "Hello?"

"Hey, baby," Sam said. "Everything okay? You sound a little out of breath."

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said, tucking the phone between her ear and her shoulder. "This cool weather has triggered my annual urge to bake, so I'm making snickerdoodles. I had to clean off my hands before I answered the phone."

He laughed. "Well, now that I know you're making cookies--"

Dean said something in the background.

"Yes, cookies. God, Dean, you're like a 5-year-old. Anyway, this is going to sound really self-serving, but we took out that vamp nest and we're not far away, maybe 3, 4 hours. Nothing's really showing up on the radar, so I was going to see if you were cool with us hanging out for a bit and working on the translations with you?"

"Sure thing." Claire returned to rolling cookie dough into balls and covering them with cinnamon sugar. "Today's a good day for that, actually. I've got a roast in the crock-pot and I made pie yesterday, so it would be nice to have some extra mouths around here so I don't try to eat all of it myself."

"I probably shouldn't tell Dean about the pie; he'll speed the whole way there." Dean's voice and the sounds of a scuffle carried through the phone. "I don't know! Ow, fine, jerk! Dean wants to know what kind of pie."

Claire grinned. "Apple. And I have ice cream, too."

Sam groaned. "That did it. If we don't show up, you'll know we're dead in a ditch. And you're probably not getting rid of us until the pie is gone."

"I'm okay with that." Claire cleared her throat, tried to make her voice more businesslike. "I've been running the scrolls through my translation program. I'll show you what I've got so far once you get here."

"Sounds good." Sam dropped his voice to the intimate tone that drove her crazy. "Maybe we can find time for a game or two of pool while we're there."

She sucked in a breath. "Maybe we can."

He chuckled. "Now Dean's really speeding. See you soon."

  
The knock on her door startled Claire out of her focus on the scrolls. The translation program was good for a rough idea of the subject, but translating from one language to another was more art than science. You just couldn’t get the full effect from the computer.

Heading toward the door, she resisted the urge to dash into her room and change clothes, reminding herself that Sam and Dean had already seen her naked. She opened the door, slightly gratified to see that they both looked a little nervous, too.

"Come in," she invited, stepping back to let them in.

"Damn," Dean said, stepping inside, Sam following. "I thought you said you had an apartment."

Claire smiled, closing the door behind Sam."Technically, this is an apartment. It's just a big one. With two floors."

"It's nice." Sam leaned down to kiss her, then hesitated. She met him halfway, and what started as a simple press of lips quickly became heated. When they broke the kiss, and her brain began to function again, Dean was watching them with an indecipherable look. Without letting herself stop to think, she moved to him and pulled him down to meet her, savoring the gentle, almost tentative way he responded to her.

When Dean lifted his head, whatever had been in his eyes was gone and he was smiling. “Somebody said something about pie?”

“Dinner first.” Claire slipped her hand into his, reaching for Sam with her other hand, and led them back to the kitchen table. “I’ve got meat and potatoes, so you can suffer through that before you have your pie.”

“Oh, no,” Sam said in a monotone voice, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You monster. Please don’t make us eat that home-cooked meal. Have mercy.”

Claire smacked Sam’s shoulder as she shoved him gently into a chair. “Shut up and let me feed you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” they said simultaneously.

“Seriously, Claire, do you need help with anything?” Sam asked.

She pulled the serving dishes out of the oven where they'd been keeping warm. "Not right now. I'll let you help with dishes after, though. Do you guys want beer? I don’t really drink it, but I was at the store and I saw the kind you had before, so I grabbed a six-pack."

“That sounds great,” Dean said. “In the fridge?”

“Yeah, help yourself.” She slid the platter of roast, potatoes, and carrots onto the table and went back for the broccoli and cauliflower. Dean pulled two beers out of the fridge and returned to the table, handing one to Sam before opening his own and taking a long pull from the cold bottle.

Dean made a face at the other vegetables but helped himself to the roast and potatoes. Sam took some of everything, trying the broccoli first. Claire was watching him surreptitiously as she dished up her own food, and she smirked when he let out the kind of noise she'd only heard from him in bed.

"What did you do to this broccoli?" he asked, forking up a bite of cauliflower this time, and moaned again. "And the cauliflower. Dean, you have to try this. I swear it does not taste like vegetables."

Dean made another face but stabbed a tiny broccoli floret with his fork and chewed it hesitantly, delight slowly dawning over his face as he ate. "Seriously, what did you do? That's incredible."

"I roasted it in bacon grease." Claire took her own bite, enjoying the sweet and savory flavor. "You can use oil instead, and it’s still good, but the bacon grease gives it a really good flavor. When I do it with asparagus, I wrap the bacon around it. It’s ridiculously good."

He looked over at Sam with a smirk. “Hate to say it, Sammy, but I think those vamps got us. We met a girl who likes kinky sex with both of us, buys us beer, likes bacon, and makes broccoli taste good. We’ve obviously died and gone to heaven.”

Claire blushed. Sam looked thoughtful. “You might have a point. Except we met Claire before we went after the vamps.”

“True.” Dean chewed his vegetables, lost in thought for a minute, then shrugged. “Either way, there’s pie, right?”

By unspoken agreement, they kept the dinner conversation light. Sam and Dean told funny stories--the time Sam took a tumble down a muddy hill and Dean thought he'd found a swamp monster, the time a witch cast an animal attraction spell on them so they were attacked by amorous squirrels ("You wouldn't believe the looks you get when 5 squirrels are all humping your leg at once"), the time an Inuit spell to let Dean speak to dogs made him act like one.

Claire contributed a few of her own--trying to get fraternities in trouble by spelling out their names in beer bottles on the university president's lawn ("It was a dry campus, not that anyone cared"), the freshman who thought he'd bought weed but was actually smoking oregano, the prank war retaliation on an RA who tried to rule the quad like her own personal kingdom.

Claire had thought she'd be too nervous to eat, but before she knew it, their food had disappeared and Dean was making obscene noises over his apple pie and ice cream. She and Sam shared an amused glance before turning their attention to their own dessert.

Both men helped clean up, Dean loading the dishwasher and Sam wiping the table, then they settled back at the table again. A palpable awkwardness settled over the three of them once the distraction of food and clean-up was gone.

"So..." Claire said, unable to deal with the silence any longer. "I guess it's time for me to say we should set some ground rules again?"

Dean shot her an amused glance. "You and your ground rules."

Claire rolled her eyes. "There are three of us. That's literally six times the chances of misunderstanding and drama. If this is going to work, we're going to have to talk about things, and the beginning seems like a good place to start."

"So, where do you want to start?" Sam asked, lacing his fingers through hers.

Claire dropped her eyes, unable to keep eye contact.  "I guess by asking, is this exclusive?"

“Yes,” they chorused, no pause or hesitation. The men shared one of those speaking looks and Dean gestured for his brother to continue.

“I’m not going to tell you we haven’t done the casual hook-up thing before,” Sam said, lifting her chin gently until she met his gaze. “But that’s not what we’re after here. We want you. Just you.”

Dean slid his hand around the back of her neck. “We’re probably gonna fuck things up somehow, but not by cheating on you.”

“Okay,” Claire said, breathing a little easier. “Then I guess my next question is, how is this going to work? Do we only have sex when it’s the three of us? Is one of you going to get jealous if he’s gone somewhere and the other two have sex?”

They looked a little baffled at the question. “Uh…” Dean said. “I don’t think that’s ever really come up before. I don’t think I’d care if you fuck Sammy if I’m not here. If I am here and I’m not invited, I might get a little testy.”

“Yeah, same for me,” Sam said. He grinned wickedly. “But if that happens, when I get back, you have to tell me exactly what he did to you. In detail. With the dirty words.”

Claire blushed again. Dean smirked. “That’ll be a fun time. I may have to send you somewhere on purpose.” He squeezed the back of her neck gently. “Any more questions? ‘Cause it’s been weeks since I got to fuck you and all this talk is giving me ideas.”

He gave her a moment to reply before pulling her closer for a kiss, nothing tentative this time about the way he bit and licked and devoured her mouth. Claire moaned, nerve endings sparking to life as he hauled her off of her chair and onto his lap where the hard ridge of his cock inside his jeans fit perfectly between her legs. He tore his mouth away and rested his forehead on hers, breathing hard. “Here? Or do you wanna take this to a bed?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we can all see where this is going.
> 
> Also, I may or may not be trying to sublimate my desire to bake in the fall through Claire. And I might have been hungry when I wrote this. The world may never know.


	8. Following Directions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and the boys are back in the bedroom.

Dean grinned when he saw the king-size bed. “Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!”

“I’m a sprawler,” Claire said, tugging Sam into the bedroom, too. “And this way there’s plenty of room for everyone.”

Sam leaned down to kiss her, long and deep and dirty, tongues and teeth and lips sliding wetly against each other. She whimpered when he pulled back, suddenly bereft. It took her a few moments to realize that Dean was tugging him down to a sitting position on the end of the bed, eyeing her with that dirty smirk.

“I think we need to see how good you are at following directions,” he purred, sitting on the end of the bed and pulling his boots off. “You like to do what you’re told, right, Claire?”

Mouth dry, she nodded, unable to speak.

“Good girl,” he rumbled. “Take off your jeans. Slowly.”

Claire fumbled with the button on her jeans for a minute before she could get her hands to work. She lowered the zipper slowly and shimmied the denim down her legs, stepping out carefully, then stood back up and waited, wearing only a blue button-down shirt and her underwear.

Sam started removing his boots as well, his eyes never leaving hers. “Unbutton your blouse. Don’t take it off, just unbutton it.”

She obeyed with trembling fingers. They hadn't touched her yet except for a couple of kisses and she was already shaking, just from their eyes hot on her as she stripped at their orders. And they knew it, she could see it on their faces.

“Leave your shirt on, but take off your bra,” Dean ordered, pulling his own shirt off, and she shivered, the dark rasp of his voice building her arousal higher. She unhooked her bra and pulled it out the sleeve of her top, acutely aware that she was almost naked before them.

Both men sucked in a shuddering breath as her bra dropped to the floor, and Claire felt a sudden surge of confidence, a feeling of power. She could clearly see the press of their cocks against their jeans, could see how turned on they were by her and what she was doing. The last bits of uncertainty and insecurity fell away and she shook her hair back, smiling as their eyes went to her breasts.

“Doing so good for us, baby,” Sam murmured, tugging his shirt over his head and tossing it to the floor. “Take off your panties, too,”

She slid them down her legs, bending at the hips and arching her back to make sure they got a good show, then slowly straightened back up.

Dean’s nostrils flared as he inhaled. “Damn, sweetheart, I can smell your pussy from here. Are you wet just from stripping for us?”

Claire swallowed, nodding. Dean’s hands clenched into fists and Sam shifted uncomfortably.

“Come over here,” Dean growled, and she obeyed, letting trembling legs take her to the bed. He fisted his hand in her hair and pulled her down for a rough kiss. He tugged her head back and scraped his teeth over her neck, smiling against her skin as she shuddered under his touch.

“I wanna watch you give Sammy a lap dance,” he breathed in her ear. “You gonna do that for me? Get him all worked up, make him beg?”

Claire groaned, and Dean chuckled mercilessly in her ear. “What’s that, sweetheart? I can’t hear you.”

“Yes,” she hissed, arching under his hands as he nipped at her earlobe.

“Good.” He guided her up, turning her to face Sam. “You ever done this before?”

She shook her head, blushing. Dean grinned. “First thing we’re gonna need is music.” He strolled over to the iPod and speakers on the nightstand and fiddled with it for a moment.

Sam huffed out a laugh as the opening riff of “Pour Some Sugar On Me” filled the room. “Really, Dean?”

“Hey, it’s a classic for a reason,” Dean said, returning to stand behind Claire. “Now remember, Sammy, no touching. Hands on the bed.”

Sam rolled his eyes but complied, taking the hands that had been resting on his thighs and pressing them flat on the bed.

Dean pulled Claire’s hair back over her shoulder, leaning down to speak directly into her ear. She shuddered as his breath ghosted over the sensitive skin of her neck, raising goosebumps everywhere. “First, I want you to go over and ride his leg. Let him get a good look at those pretty tits.”

Sucking in a breath, Claire nodded and crawled up on top of Sam, one knee on either side of his leg. She smoothed her hands down the front of her body, over the shirt at first, her hips circling against his thigh in time to the music. He dug his fingers into the comforter, like he was fighting not to grab her. Encouraged, she slid her hands back up, sliding the open edges of her shirt to the outside of her breasts, smiling as he groaned. “Oh, baby, you’re gonna pay for this when I get my hands on you,” he promised, eyes gone dark as he watched her move.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Dean crooned from behind her. “Now turn around. Grind that pretty little ass up against him.”

Claire turned around as ordered, but she shot Dean a glare as she did so. “My ass is not little.”

“Thank God for that,” Sam gritted out as she leaned back, looping her arms around his neck as she undulated against him. “I love your ass. I don’t have to worry I’m going to break you in two if I fuck you too hard. I can just grab on and let go and you’ll take it, won’t you baby? Take everything we give you and beg for more?”

“I don’t think I’m supposed to be the one begging here,” she said, sliding her hands down to her breasts, first cupping them in her hands before sliding her thumbs up to play with her nipples, already achingly hard under her touch. “I guess I can if you want me to, though.”

“Fuck,” Sam muttered, hands flexing against the bed. “Dean, you’re gonna pay for this, too.”

Dean smirked. “I don’t think he’s gonna last much longer, Claire. Why don’t you show him where he can touch?”

Reaching down, she laced her fingers through Sam’s larger ones, dragging his hands slowly up her thighs, over her rib cage, until they were cupping her breasts, lifting them like an offering for Dean’s hungry gaze. He leaned forward, swiping his tongue gently over first one nipple, then the other, smiling wolfishly at the noises that dragged out of her.

She retaliated by sliding Sam’s hand down between her legs. They groaned together as his fingers slid wetly across her clit. “Shit, baby,” he rasped in her ear, freeing his fingers to slide down and nudge inside her pussy. “You’re so fucking wet for us, dripping all over my jeans. Wanna fuck you right here, just like this, make Dean watch.”

Claire whimpered as he crooked his fingers expertly inside her, thumb still on her clit, and looked up to see Dean completely naked, stroking his cock as he watched them with a predatory gaze. Sam chuckled wickedly in her ear. “Oh, you like that. C’mon baby. Come for us now. Let Dean see how much you love it. Let me feel how much you love it. Want you to come all over my hand, wanna be able to smell your pussy on these jeans even after I wash ‘em.” He worked her over, one hand on her pussy, one hand on her nipple, murmuring filthy endearments and promises into her ear and when he pinched her nipple and ordered her to come, she did.

She had a vague feeling of being shifted and allowed it, her body pliable and melting, and before she’d entirely recovered she felt herself sinking down onto Sam’s cock. She groaned as he pushed into her, feeling herself stretch and ease around him until he was fully inside her, as deep as he could go. And then he started to move, one hand on her breast and one hand on her clit, strong arms pinning her back to his chest so all she could do is take it as he fucked up into her.

Dean made an abortive motion toward them, but Sam snapped. “No.” and Dean stopped in his tracks.

“I said you were gonna pay, Dean, and now you are. You get to watch me fuck our girl. You get to hear her, smell her, watch these pretty tits bounce, but you don’t get to touch. Not this time.”

“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean snarled, free fist clenching at his side, but he didn't move closer.

Claire felt Sam’s grin against her neck. “Hands to yourself or maybe next time I’ll cuff you to the bed and let you watch while I fuck her.” Claire bit back a whimper and Dean’s cock jerked in his hands. Sam chuckled. “Or maybe I will anyway, since it looks like both of you really like that idea.”

He turned his mouth back toward Claire’s ear, his voice dropping back to that dark, velvety, intimate rasp, but she could see from the direction of Dean’s eyes that he was keeping eye contact with his brother. “You want that, baby? You want to see him all stretched out on your bed, hands cuffed up above his head, so you can play with him however you want and he can’t move? Want to watch him go crazy while I fuck you and he can’t even get a hand free to get himself off? Want to make him beg you to touch him?”

Claire shuddered and came apart under Sam’s talented hands and dirty voice and the predatory intensity of Dean’s regard. Sam’s thrusts sped up under her, fucking her straight through her orgasm and into another before his hips stuttered and he bit down on her shoulder and thrust up inside her one final time, coming deep inside her.

She noticed when Sam eased them back to lie on the bed, she just didn’t care. Likewise when Dean joined them, although she did muster up the energy to mutter up a quick “All right?” to him, only to have him capture her mouth in a blistering kiss and mutter something about being better than porn.

Some indeterminate, lazy amount of time later, Claire giggled, massaging her fingers through Dean’s hair and watching him arch like a cat under her ministrations.

“What’s so funny?” Sam asked, propping himself up on one elbow to watch.

“All these stories about the big, bad Winchesters. Fighting the monsters, saving the world, stopping the apocalypse. Nobody has any idea how cuddly you two get after sex.” She giggled again. “If I had a secret camera in here I’d have blackmail material for days. I’d never have to work again.”

“If you had a secret camera in here you’d have the best porno ever,” Dean rumbled, eyes still closed. “I’d pay good money for that.”

“Dude, nobody wants to see your scrawny ass when they’re watching porn,” Sam protested.

Dean smirked. “My ass is not scrawny. It’s magnificent. And it’s not like there’s a market for Sasquatch porn.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “Oh, my God. I take it all back. Nobody said anything about a secret camera. Who wants more pie?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More smut! I really enjoyed letting Sam get a little toppy here; I feel like in a situation like this the brothers would probably fight each other a bit to see which one is ultimately in control. And it might change from time to time, just for fun.
> 
> Updates will slow down a bit as I'm also trying to do NaNoWriMo, but I'll keep them coming, since I want to know where this is going, too! (Outlines? We don't need no steenking outlines!)


	9. It Feels Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire wakes Dean up, and Sam takes care of her. Then there are feels. Feels everywhere.

Claire woke up sometime in the small hours of the morning, just enough to realize that she wasn’t alone. Sam was curled around her back, and she was sprawled across Dean, his heartbeat steady under her ear. She let herself drift back into sleep, warm and content in their arms.

 

When she woke again, light was seeping around the edges of the curtains. Both men were still asleep, and she considered her approach for a minute before sliding slowly down to take Dean’s cock in her mouth. He hardened almost immediately under her tongue, but he didn’t wake up until after he’d started to thrust into her mouth.

“Jesus, fuck, Claire,” he babbled brokenly. “Shit, sweetheart, that feels so good. Don’t stop, oh God, don’t stop…”

Sam’s big hand threaded into her her hair, urging her further down onto Dean’s dick, holding her gently in place when she would have pulled back. She breathed through her nose, focusing on pulling in air, and swallowed around him.

“That’s it, baby.” Sam’s voice was dark and rich and had lust coiling in her belly. “Swallow for him, let him feel it. Feels so good when you do that. Take care of Dean and I’ll take care of you.”

Sam started licking his way down her spine, peppering her with tiny kisses and bites. He curled himself around and lifted her upper leg, sliding his head down to lick at her clit. She moaned around Dean, which only made him thrust harder into her mouth.

“So good, sweetheart, don’t stop,” Dean growled. “God, I wish I could fuck your mouth forever. So hot and wet for me. Feels so good.”

The combination of Dean’s words and Sam’s fingers and tongue had her coming almost before she realized it. Dean kept thrusting into her mouth while Sam slipped out from between her legs.

She heard a ripping sound and then Sam was back, straddling her lower leg and lifting the upper leg to rest on his shoulder as he curled two fingers inside her pussy. He chuckled as she moaned around Dean’s cock. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ve got you.”  

With the way she was turned sideways to Sam it was an even tighter fit than usual. He worked his way inside her with short, sharp digs of his cock until he was as deep as he could go and then he started fucking her in earnest, matching Dean’s thrusts into her mouth. Sam fucked her relentlessly through one orgasm and straight into another before he came, pressing even deeper inside her. Seconds later, Dean finally lost it, coming in her mouth with a loud groan.

After a few minutes Dean dragged her up the bed for a kiss, apparently unbothered by the taste of his come in her mouth. “That was amazing. You’re officially the only person who ever gets to wake me up.”

Claire collapsed on her back while Sam got up to deal with the condom, still panting. “You know that’s not gonna happen every morning, right?”

“Awww,” Sam pouted as he returned to her other side. “Please? We’ll make it worth your while,” he promised in her favorite voice.

She pursed her lips, pretending to mull it over. “I’ll consider it.”

They lay in surprisingly comfortable silence for some time, until their breathing had slowed down and become regular.

“So…” Claire broke the silence.

Dean propped himself up on one elbow and started tracing patterns on her belly. “What’s up, sweetheart?”

“I should start by saying I’m super nosy, and if I ask about something you’re not willing to share, say so. I may pout a little, but I’m a big girl, and I can stand being told to butt out.”

“Okay, now I’m a little worried,” Sam said, running his fingers through her hair.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Whaddya want to know?”

“We talked about it a little before, back at the diner, but--how did you guys figure out that you liked…” she made a gesture that encompassed the bed and the three of them “...this?”

They shared one of those looks full of communication. Sam arched an eyebrow, Dean shrugged minutely, and then their attention was back on her. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“What we said back at the diner was true,” Sam began. “You know who we are and what we do. How much do you know about the way we grew up?”

“Just what you told me, and what was in the books.” Claire winced as she heard the last part come out of her mouth. She winced again when they both swore in unison. “Sorry! Sorry. I didn’t know you guys then.”

“Anyway,” Sam continued, obviously setting aside the subject of the books for the time being, “we really did grow up in each other’s pockets. I must’ve been, what, sixteen the first time Dean brought a girl back to our hotel room?”

“Sounds about right,” Dean drawled. “I was a little worried about him, at least until I saw him watching her. Made sure to give him a real good show, too.”

Claire watched, fascinated, as Sam flushed. “I liked it. I thought it was just because I’d never seen a real girl naked before, but...it was better. Even after I had sex myself, it was better when Dean was watching.” He grinned wickedly, dimples flashing. “You should’ve seen his face the first time I asked him if he wanted a taste. Thought he was gonna have a heart attack.”

“You coulda given me some warning,” Dean grumbled. “One minute I’m watching this chick begging him to let her come, next thing I know he’s calling me over.”

Sam smirked. “You didn’t waste any time, either. Practically teleported across the room.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean said. “Anyway, after that, it just kinda got to be a habit. Like I said, it’s like live porn, and sometimes I get to play, too.”

Sam stroked his hand up and down her arm. “I don’t really know why it works. Maybe  because we had drilled into us that we were safer together for so long that we can’t really relax and enjoy ourselves unless we’re both there. And I’m always a little scared I’m going to be too rough, so knowing Dean can stop me if I start to go too far--” he shrugged. “It helps. It’s better.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. It just made sense for us. We’re a team in everything else; it figures we’re a team in this, too.” He smirked. “Never had any complaints, anyway.”

“It sounds so logical when you explain it like that,” Claire teased. “And I definitely don’t have any complaints.”

“Good.” Dean leaned over and kissed her.

“But…” her voice trailed off as she tried to think of how to phrase the next question without giving too much away. “Never mind.”

“What is it, baby?” Sam asked. “You want to know something, we’ll tell you.”

“Well, obviously you guys have done the threesome thing before. Have you ever…”

“Have we ever tried dating someone?” Dean finished for her. “No. Most of the girls we picked up weren’t interested in anything serious, and the ones that might have been? We weren’t there long enough for anything to have a chance. You’ve” his mouth twisted “read the books. You know the kind of life we’ve been living, pretty much our whole lives. We’ve both tried to get out, different times, different ways. It’s never worked. We’ve both tried to pretend we were normal, to be normal. How well do you think that’s worked out?

“Hell, maybe that’s the real reason we do this. For our whole fucking lives, Sam was the only permanent thing in my life.” He sighed. “It’s a little less lonely when someone who knows you, who loves you, is there. Makes it feel a little less cheap.”

She pulled him closer, aching from the pain she saw on his face, pain echoed in Sam’s eyes, willing comfort through her touch. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, you should,” Sam said softly, moving in closer on her other side. “If we’re going to do this, you need to be able to ask. It’s not going to work if we’re not honest. We’re both a little bit broken; we’ve just learned to work around the sharp edges.”

She curled her other arm around Sam, holding him to her, fingers threaded through his hair. “I just...I’m just trying to understand. You guys have been with lots of girls, lots of women. I’m not anything special. Why me?”

“Because you see through our bullshit and call us on it,” Dean said.

“Because you blackmailed an angel into teaching you Enochian,” Sam said.

“Because you helped us when you could’ve told us to go to hell.”

“Because you scream for us when you come.”

“Because you make me pie.”

“Because you understand exactly how fucked up we are and you’re still willing to give us a shot.” Sam rested his head on her shoulder. “We couldn’t make relationships work on our own; we’re too used to being together. It was like half of me was missing, like I’d lost an arm or a leg. If we’re ever going to have a shot at a relationship, at something that lasts, it’s going to have to be together. And I want it to be with you.”

Dean started tracing patterns across her stomach again. “This isn’t just a matter of opportunity. It’s not just, oh, there’s this woman here, and it’s right place, right time, any woman would work. We’ve had chances before, and it’s never been right. This?” He lifted one shoulder. “It feels right.”

Claire laced the fingers of her free hand through Dean’s, the other one stroking comfortingly down Sam’s back. “Yeah. It does.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay in posting; between NaNoWriMo eating my brain and the way this chapter was fighting me; well, anyway, it's done now. I'll try to get more posted ASAP!


	10. Whatever You Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Research and lunch and fun with toys, all within a few hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, so sorry for the delay in posting: NaNoWriMo ate my brain. The good news is, I know where the plot is going (sure there's plot! You can totally see it if you squint!) so hopefully I can get the rest of this knocked out at pretty regular intervals.
> 
> So have a nice long chapter with a smidgen of plot and character development, followed by quite a bit of smut.

"Huh," Claire said, straightening up from where she'd been leaning over a scan.

Sam glanced up from his own translation, eyebrows raised.

She tapped the sheet of paper. "This one says it's by a rabbi who made an extensive study of the Torah. Might have something useful."

Sam brightened. "Is it in Greek?"

"Yeah," she said, glancing back down at the paper. "Apparently our rabbi wasn't just a scholar of the Torah, because this is an original work, not a copy. He must’ve written it himself."

"How can you tell?" he asked curiously.

"How can you tell that a particular kill is the work of a werewolf or a vampire?" she replied with a smile. "This is what I do. See here?" She pointed to the way the lines of Greek letters wandered slightly across the page as he came to lean over her shoulder.

"Copies in this time period were normally made by or dictated to scribes, who were trained to a ridiculous standard of perfection. Our rabbi was good, but he wasn't that good. And here?" She pointed out a place where the pen had bobbled, making the tau slightly misshapen.

"So there might be something in there about Cain, or the Mark?" he asked eagerly.

"Could be," she answered absently, making notes on the rough translation her program had generated, crossing out words and replacing them with others, jotting reminders to check other sources. "It looks like he starts from the beginning of Genesis, so we'll have to see."

Sam returned to his own spot, flipping to another page in the Ancient Greek-to-English dictionary he'd dug up from somewhere.

Claire was so absorbed in her translation that she barely noticed when Dean came back with groceries and started working in the kitchen. Some part of her brain registered the sound of cabinets opening and closing and the smell of cooking meat and onions.

She jolted when Dean set three plates on the table, blinking as she came back to reality. "Wow," she said, taking in the patty melts covered in beautifully caramelized onions and perfectly melted cheese, accompanied with piles of what looked like--- "Did you make sweet potato fries? Like slice them and everything?"

Dean shrugged like it was no big deal, but she could see the pleasure in his eyes and the slight blush across his cheekbones. "It's not that hard. Not like I don't have lots of practice with a knife."

"Not just a pretty face, I see," she teased, then took a bite of her patty melt and moaned just a little. "God, Dean, this is so good. Forget hunting; you should just live here and be my personal chef. I can keep you in the style you're accustomed to."

"Yeah, cheap beer and cheaper motel rooms are hard to come by," Sam snarked, sliding his papers over and grabbing his own plate. "This is really good, man," he admitted after taking a bite.

Dean sat down and claimed his own plate, unable to entirely suppress a pleased smile. "I'm not exactly fluent in Ancient Greek. Figured I should do my part as best I can. They also serve who grocery shop."

Claire devoted herself to her food for several blissful moments, but happened to glance up in time to intercept the last of one of those silent conversations--Sam's raised eyebrow, Dean's nod, the matching wicked grins that made it clear they were, in fact, brothers. "Do I want to know?" she asked dryly, concentrating on finding the perfect patty-melt-to-sweet-potato-fry flavor ratio.

"Later," Dean promised, turning that slightly worrisome smile on her. "Any luck with the translations?"

"Maybe," she said, setting down her fork and swallowing the last of the food in her mouth. "The one I'm working on now is more of a commentary than an actual copy of Genesis, which is useful. The rabbi who wrote it was quite a scholar for his day and age, but the pertinent bit is that he referenced a version of the Cain and Abel story that matches what Cain told you. And in this version, unlike your standard King James, it wasn't God who gave Cain the Mark, but Michael, as punishment for betraying his brother."

Both men sat up a little straighter at this news. "Well, Michael was the kind of dick who’d do something like that," Dean mused. "I could see it. Anything else about the Mark?"

"Not that I could find," she admitted. "After lunch I'll finish going over it, but he only referenced that version in passing. If we don't find anything else, I'll reach out to some people I know in the community that study apocrypha and see if anyone can give me a line on that version of the story. Sorry it's not more."

"Hey," Sam said, taking her hand in his. "It's more than we've managed to find. Even if it was just about the speed of translation, you'd be helping, and this is an actual possible lead--the first one we’ve found."

Dean nodded agreement, pressing his leg up against hers. "I'd love it if we could find the magic solution, instantly do it, and call it a day, but things as powerful as the Mark don't usually work that way. You got us closer than we were, or than we would've gotten on our own."

It was Claire's turn to blush. "I just wish it was more. Wish I could do more," she said quietly.

Dean leaned over to kiss her softly and her heart ached from the sweetness of it. “We’ll find a way,” he said quietly. “There’s an answer out there, and if anybody can find it, you and Research Boy over there can.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “He says that like he’s never done a day of research in his life.”

“I’ve done it,” Dean admitted lazily, finishing off his lunch. “Doesn’t mean I like it. You actually do.”

“Sometimes,” Sam said, stacking up their empty plates and carrying them to the sink. “But right now, I think we could all use a break from research.”

“But...I’m almost done with this translation,” Claire said.

Dean took her hand and started leading her toward the bedroom. “It can wait, sweetheart. We’ve got a little surprise for you.”

“And suddenly I’m worried,” she said, not entirely joking.

Sam followed them into the room and pulled her close for a long, hot, hungry kiss. “Remember our first time?” he breathed in her ear, nibbling on her neck the way he knew drove her crazy. “Remember what I said I wanted to do?”

Dean moved in behind her and Claire caught her breath, half at the memory of Sam’s words and half at the feeling of being caged between two hard male bodies. She nodded wordlessly.

Sam chuckled against her throat. “C’mon, baby. You can do better than that. What did I say I wanted?”

Dean pressed closer and Claire swallowed, hard, mouth suddenly dry. “You said...you said you wanted to fuck my ass while Dean fucked my pussy.”

Sam rewarded her with another kiss. “Good girl. You did remember. I still want to. I know Dean still wants to.”

“You’re fucking right I do,” Dean growled in her ear.

“So the question is,” Sam said softly, “do you want to? This is up to you. What we’re already doing is amazing; I could keep it up the rest of my life and die a happy man.”

Claire took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and nodded.

"You sure, sweetheart?" Dean asked. "If you're not sure, we can wait." He kissed her shoulder. "No rush. No pressure."

She twisted around to face Dean, standing on tiptoe for a kiss. "I'm sure. I want this. Want both of you."

“We’re still not gonna rush into this,” Sam said, fitting himself flush against her back. “We have time to get you ready. We want this to be good for you, so I had Dean pick up some toys while he was out today.”

Dean chuckled, taking her face in his hands. “Don’t ever play poker, sweetheart. I can see exactly what you’re thinking.” He kissed her long and hard, until she felt herself melting into them. “Don’t worry. We’ll make it good for you. If anything hurts, you say ‘red’, right?”

“Right,” she agreed absently, attention focused on them working together to remove her clothes. Sam peeled off her shirt and tossed her bra aside, his hands coming up to cup her breasts and play lightly, too lightly, with her nipples, while Dean unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down her legs, holding them for her to step out of before tossing them aside.

“But first we’re gonna have some fun. Lie down on the bed, on your back,” Dean ordered. “Hands above your head.”

She blinked at him for a moment before complying, settling back against the pillows and lifting her arms above her head. She could feel her eyes widening as Dean pulled out a set of leather cuffs and craned her neck to see the rather large bag next to the bed. How the fuck did I not notice him carrying that in here?

“I might have gotten a little carried away,” he admitted conversationally, buckling a cuff around her right wrist. He smiled wolfishly as she shivered, and she couldn’t have said whether it was from the brush of the soft lining against her skin or the fact that it was snug around her wrist. “Sammy just asked me to find some plugs so we could ease you into things. But I saw these cuffs and I remembered how much you liked it when we tied you down. I picked up a few extra things.”

“Can’t complain,” Sam said, sitting on the other side of the bed and watching as Dean threaded the chain around the slats of the headboard, then buckled on the other cuff, stroking a hand absently up and down her leg. “Why the long chain?”

Dean winked at his brother. “So she can turn over, if we want her to.”

Sam smiled slowly back. “Good call.”

"But in the meantime..." Dean leaned down to kiss her, his tongue lazily twining with hers, pinning her to the mattress with the weight of his body. He pulled back just long enough to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it aside before leaning down to bite gently at her neck. "Not that I'm complaining about your mouth on my dick, sweetheart, but I'd really like to fuck you this time."

"Okay," she gasped as he licked a circle around one nipple before sucking it into his mouth. Her eyes flew open and she bucked up underneath them, pulling fruitlessly against the cuffs as Sam scraped his teeth over the other nipple. Dean kissed his way down her belly, leaving her breasts to Sam, who used his hand to be sure neither one felt neglected. She was already on the verge of coming when Dean licked at her clit; when he curled two fingers inside her it was enough to send her over the edge.

Sam released her nipple with one last suck that had her arching up as much as the cuffs would permit and slid up to capture her mouth in a long, sumptuous kiss. Dean moved away for a moment and something ripped (condom, her brain supplied). She moaned into Sam’s mouth when she felt Dean’s cock press slowly inside her pussy.

“That’s it, baby,” Sam murmured, kissing her neck. “Dean’s gonna fuck you, and then we’re gonna put a plug in that pretty ass of yours, start getting you ready. Then we’re gonna take turns fucking you.”

Dean lifted her legs until they were propped on his shoulders, pushing still deeper inside of her. “Oh, she likes that idea,” he purred, reaching down to roll one of her nipples between his fingers. “I can feel you getting wet just thinking about it, sweetheart. It won’t be the same, but it’ll give you an idea of what it’ll be like, having us both inside you.”

Sam returned his attention to her other nipple, scraping his teeth over it before sucking it inside his mouth. His other hand slid down her belly and found her clit, stroking her in time to Dean’s thrusts. Before long she was coming, shuddering under their hands.

They stroked and petted her as she came down, but she still whimpered a little when Dean pulled out and their strong hands turned her over to her stomach, arms still stretched above her head.

“Up on your knees for me, baby,” Sam urged, sliding his hand down her back and over the curve of her ass. She did as he asked, leaving her head and shoulders on the bed. Nerves started to rise, heightened by the click of a lid being opened behind her.

“No, baby, it’s okay,” Sam murmured. “Don’t worry, don’t tense up. You can do this, you’re gonna love it. You’re gonna feel so full, so good.”

She felt a blunt, cool pressure against her ass and, despite her best intentions, felt herself tense. Sam didn’t press inside, just teased it against her. “Dean, why don’t you see if you can distract her, huh?”

“My pleasure,” Dean said, and she smiled to realize she could hear the smirk that must be on his face. His fingers slid up her thigh, unerringly finding their way to a spot at the base of her clit that made her legs shake. He focused unrelentingly on that spot, taking her higher and higher, her moans climbing the scale until she wasn’t even making a sound as she came, just gasping as she shook beneath his hand. She was still aware of the plug, aware that Sam was pressing it gently but firmly into her ass until it was fully seated inside her, but it didn’t hurt.

“Good girl,” Sam praised, his thumb rubbing circles in the small of her back. “So good for us. Can’t wait until that’s me, until you’re taking me inside your ass.”

Dean pushed his way inside her again, and she moaned when his thrusts pressed the plug into her ass. “Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so wet. You like that, don’t you? Like me fucking you with the plug in your ass?”

It took two tries for Claire to reply; each time she started to, Dean thrust a little deeper and stole her breath. “Yes,” she finally gasped. “God, Dean, please…”

“I like it when you beg,” he rasped, big hands gripping her hips to hold her in place while he fucked her. “I’m gonna fuck you til I come, then Sammy’s gonna fuck you. Is that what you want?”

She nodded into the bed, and Sam threaded his fingers through her hair, tugging gently. “That’s nice, baby,” he said gently “but it doesn’t really matter what you want, does it? You’re chained to the bed. We can do whatever we want, can’t we?”

She moaned, and his grip in her tightened infinitesimally. “I asked you a question,” he growled.

“Yes,” she breathed.

“Yes, what?” he prompted.

“You can do whatever you want,” she moaned, feeling Dean’s hands tighten on her hips as he picked up speed. She was so close...

“That’s right,” Sam purred into her ear, his voice dark and low. “And you like that don’t you, you little slut? Want us to use you however we want?”

Sam’s voice, his words, his hand fisted in her hair, Dean’s thrusts inside her, the plug in her ass, all came together and took her over the edge. Dean fucked her unrelentingly through it, taking her up again. “Such a slut for us,” he growled, “letting us fuck you however we want. You want to come again?” he asked as she moaned beneath him.

“Fuck, yes, please, Dean,” she babbled brokenly, trying desperately to arrange words into a coherent sentence.

“Ask me before you come,” he ordered. “If you come before I tell you you can, Sammy’s not going to fuck your pussy tonight. Understand?”

She nodded frantically, but Dean smacked her ass. “Answer me.”

“Yes,” she gasped, “I understand.”

“Good.” He picked up speed, and it wasn’t long before she was shaking under him.

“Can I come?” she moaned, fighting back her orgasm.

“Not yet,” he said. “Ask me politely next time.”

“Please can I come?” she asked, shuddering and biting her lip as Sam tugged lightly at her hair again.

“Dean, please, please let me come,” she begged, gasping for air. “Please, please, please, oh, fuck, please--”

“Come for me,” he ordered, and she did, screaming into the bed as he fucked her through it and thrust deeply inside her one last time, shuddering as he came with her.

When Dean withdrew, she collapsed limply onto the bed, too wrung out to even lift her head. Sam pressed a kiss to her hair and turned her gently back onto her back. She moaned as he sank fully inside her with one thrust.

“I’m not gonna last long after that,” he gritted out, gripping her legs and pushing them back toward her chest. “Fuck, baby, that was so hot, I almost came before I got inside you.”

True to his word, he came after thrusting inside her only a couple of times, letting go of her legs and collapsing on top of her, the weight of his body pressing her into the mattress.

 

 


	11. Won't Let You Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has nightmares, and the boys want Claire to move into the bunker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was planned (inasmuch as I do any planning) as a straight-up feels chapter, but some smut found its way in there somehow. Not that I think anyone will complain about it. :)
> 
> Smut loosely inspired by [this gif: ](http://dirtysupernaturalimagines.tumblr.com/post/100892022883/imagine-dean-fingering-you-awake-and-then-fucking)

Claire came to awareness gradually, a vague sense of wrong niggling at her and refusing to let her sink back into sleep. Sam was still asleep, snoring softly, one arm under her neck holding her close to his side, but the other side of the bed was empty. A brief glance at the window confirmed that it was still night, and the bathroom door was open and dark. The door to the living room, on the other hand, was closed, with a dim light shining through around the edges.

She slipped slowly out of Sam’s hold, holding her breath as she eased off the side of the bed, but he never so much as twitched. She grabbed someone’s shirt from the floor-- _must be Sam’s if it fits over my boobs_ \--and pulled it on, not wanting to parade naked around the living room if the windows were still open. She opened the door just enough to slip through, making sure the light from the living room didn’t fall onto Sam’s face, and closed it softly behind her.

Dean was sitting on the couch, arms braced on his knees, infinite weariness in every line of his body. For a minute she considered retreat, uncertain of her right to intrude on whatever this was, but then he turned his head and met her eyes. The pain on his face had her forgetting her own self-consciousness and moving across the room to curl up beside him, pressing close for warmth.

“Hey,” she said softly, leaning her head on his shoulder.

He hesitated for a minute, then slid his arm around her, relaxing a little. “Hey,” he answered.

“Can’t sleep?” she ventured after a few more silent moments.

“Nightmare,” he said, his tone dismissive. “A little PTSD comes with the territory when you’re a hunter.”

She nodded. “I imagine so,” she said agreeably.

They sat there like that for awhile before he sighed and leaned back against the back of the couch, pulling her with him. “It’s the Mark,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “It…” he shuddered, closing his eyes. “I...when I dream, everyone is dead. Sam, you, Cas, everyone. I’ve killed you. I’ve killed everyone. And it…it feels so good. I want to go back and do it over again, slower, so I can enjoy it.”

She turned toward him, wrapping her arms around him. He buried his face in her hair, clinging desperately.

“I don’t know if I can stop it,” he said finally. “I don’t know how to stop it. Hunting helps for awhile. Sex helps, too--” she felt the ghost of his usual cocky smirk against her hair “--but nothing works for long. I hope like hell we can find an answer. I can’t do it again, I can’t be that thing again.”

“We’ll find a way,” she promised, desperately hoping it wasn’t a lie. “There’s an answer out there. Somewhere. We won’t let you fall.”

He sucked in a shuddering breath as she stroked her hands up and down his back, threaded her fingers through his hair. They both pretended he wasn’t crying.

Finally his breath evened out, and he lay relaxed against her. “C’mon,” she said, urging him up. “This couch is kind of awesome, but the bed’s even more comfortable.”

“Yeah, okay,” he said, scrubbing at his face as he stood, then pulling her to her feet. Once she was standing, he went to let go, but she threaded her fingers through his, tugging him toward the bedroom.

Sam roused when they settled back into the bed. “Everything okay?” he muttered, pulling Claire back toward him, eyes still closed.

“It’s fine, Sammy,” Dean said, pulling the comforter over them and draping his arm over her waist. “Sleep.”

“‘kay,” Sam mumbled, dropping back into sleep.

“You, too,” she prompted, kissing Dean’s cheek. “We’re here. We’re fine. Sleep now.”

He nodded, closing his eyes with a sigh. “Yes, ma’am.”

 

The next morning, Claire came awake with Dean's mouth on hers and Sam's fingers thrusting gently inside her.

"There she is," Sam murmured, leaning down for his own kiss as Dean pulled back. "You awake now, baby?" He grinned wickedly as he curled his fingers up to stroke over her g-spot.

"I think so," she breathed, gasping as Dean licked over her nipple. "You should--ah!--probably make sure, though."

Dean lifted his head and then they were both grinning at her, and she felt it like a punch in her chest, like a hand wrapped around her heart. Something must have shown on her face, because their expressions shifted instantly to concern. "Claire? You okay?" Dean asked softly, sliding a comforting hand up her arm.

She shook it off and smiled at them ( _panic later, Claire_ ). "I'm fine," she reassured, reaching for their hands. "This is a hell of a way to wake up."

"Give it a minute," Sam said, grin back in place. He added a third finger and only Dean's hand on her stomach kept her on the bed, her hips pushing up toward him and what could only be described as a whimper coming out of her mouth as he slid his thumb over her clit. Not to be outdone, Dean returned his attention to her breasts, licking and sucking and nibbling until she completely lost it, shuddering under their hands as she came.

She was vaguely aware that they were moving her, pulling her head away from the headboard and then Sam was pushing inside her, bottoming out in one hard thrust. "It's gonna be hard and fast, baby," he warned, matching actions to words as he set a pace just on the right side of brutal.

She lost track of Dean until he leaned over her, his fingers shiny with lube and began slicking the valley between her breasts. "Wanna fuck these pretty tits," he said, spreading the lube meticulously over her skin. "You gonna let me do that, sweetheart?"

Claire nodded and he grinned ferally, pouring more lube into his hand and slicking it over his cock before he straddled her chest, careful not to drop most of his weight onto her. He took her hands and brought them to her breasts, pressing them together until his dick was surrounded. "Hold 'em for me," he ordered, beginning to thrust, quickly picking up the same rhythm as Sam, or maybe Sam slowed to his pace. She dismissed this as a "chicken or the egg" question; they just fell in sync as always.

She tucked her chin down to watch the head of Dean's cock appear and disappear between her breasts, and he groaned when she stuck out her tongue and licked at it. Encouraged, she maneuvered enough to catch the head in her mouth on his next thrust.

"Jesus fuck," Dean swore, his voice strangled, making his thrusts shallower so the head stayed in her mouth, his hands over hers pressing her breasts closer together. "You're gonna kill me, sweetheart. You should see this, Sammy. Letting me fuck her tits and her mouth at the same time. Fucking amazing."

Sam looked over Dean's shoulder and groaned, his fingers digging into her hips as he did his best to fuck her into the mattress. "Shit, I wanna do that, too."

"Next time," Dean promised for her and swallowed hard as she hummed approvingly.

Claire felt her attention slipping, Sam's hard, pounding thrusts building her higher and higher and then he slid one hand over, rubbing her clit until she came. She did her best to keep her mouth relaxed for Dean, the slide of his cock over her skin almost too much in her hypersensitive state. Sam fucked her harder and faster, keeping his finger on her clit until he buried himself still deeper inside of her and came.

"Suck on me," Dean ordered, and she did, sucking the head of his dick deeper into her mouth and he groaned above her, letting go of her breasts and pushing further into her mouth as he came, filling her mouth as she swallowed it down.

They lay in sweaty, content silence for several minutes until Dean's stomach growled. Sam and Claire laughed and he grinned sheepishly.

"Breakfast?" she asked, pushing herself to a sitting position.

"Shower first," Dean said, rolling off the bed and steering her into the bathroom, Sam following close behind.

  
"That's weird."

Sam was checking his email after breakfast while Dean loaded the dishwasher. Claire looked up from her translation. "What's up?"

"Maybe nothing," he said, but he didn't sound convinced. She looked at him steadily until he admitted defeat with a wry smile. "Murder, pretty bloody. Witnesses saw 'a fiery shape' flying toward the house before the murder and then away afterward."

"Sounds like our kind of thing," Dean said. "Where was it?"

"Oklahoma," Sam said slowly. "Not in a town, just out in the country. Probably about 6 hours drive or so."

"Okay," Dean said, pausing when Sam gave him a look. They had another silent conversation, this one a bit longer than normal.

"You guys know I'm sitting right here, right?" Claire said dryly.

They had the good grace to look a little embarrassed. "If we go...we wanted to ask..." Sam stuttered to a halt, fiddling with his pen as he took a breath and tried again. "We're a little worried about you being here alone while we're gone."

She pursed her lips, torn between annoyance and amusement. "I am a reasonably adult woman, and I've been on my own for awhile, you know."

"We know," Dean said. "But you've been helping us research the Mark. Asking questions. Sooner or later that's gonna get back to the kind of things that would much rather I went dark-side."

Claire sighed. "I'm not stupid." She went to the kitchen and pulled a UV light out of the cabinet, carrying it over to the window and shining it on the glass, then the floor in front of the window, revealing the devil's trap and the angelic warding symbols painted there. "I did the whole place when I moved in. Devil's traps in front of all the entrances, angel-proofing on the walls and the windows."

They inspected her work minutely, finally nodding in approval. "But you're not gonna be in your house the whole time we're gone," Dean said. "You'll need to go out for groceries or something."

"We're not saying you're stupid, or that you can't take care of yourself under normal circumstances," Sam said, sincerity in every word. "But these aren't normal circumstances. The kinds of things that would be gunning for you, we'd have a hard time with them, and we've been training for this all our lives."

She wavered, torn between the knowledge that they were right and attachment to her space.

"Please," Dean said quietly, something raw and hurting in his eyes. "If you get hurt..." he trailed off, closing his eyes.

She swallowed hard, blinking back sympathetic tears. "Okay," she whispered.

Sam pulled her into a hug, his hands rubbing soothing circles into her back. "Thank you," he whispered in her ear before pulling back.

"Hey," he said, a shade too brightly. "While we're gone, you can play in the library."

"You have a library?" she asked skeptically, part of her mind already listing what she'd need to bring with her.

"Biggest collection of supernatural lore we know of," Dean said with a smug grin.

"And it all needs to be cataloged," Sam added, using the voice she normally only heard in bed. "Right now it's all on cards."

Dean rolled his eyes. "You two can talk nerdy to each other some other time. Claire, how soon can you be ready to go?"

She thought about it for a minute. "Am I going to be coming back sometime, or do I need to get all my stuff today?"

"We can come back," Sam promised.

"In that case, give me an hour and I'll be good to go," she said.


	12. Miss You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire is Research Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning: This chapter involves Native American myths, specifically Cherokee. Although I'm tribally enrolled with the Cherokee nation, like Claire, and many that I've met in real life, my parents only did that to take advantage of benefits for Cherokee citizens; I was not raised with an awareness of that part of my heritage. I apologize for anything that is incorrect or inconsistent.

"Home, sweet home," Dean said, opening the door with a flourish.

Claire stepped inside and stopped dead in her tracks, hands clutching the balcony railing as she took in the large, circular room with its antiquated but somehow purposeful equipment.

They gave her a moment to take it in. When she looked up, they were wearing identical boyish grins. "Come on," Sam said, hitching one of her bags back up on his shoulder. "You can't even see the library from here."

She followed them down the stairs and into the library, eyes wide, then let out a pleased sigh, moving to a bookcase and running her fingers over the spines of the books.

"I think I'm jealous," Dean commented to his brother, still grinning. "She usually only makes that noise in bed."

"You have no room to talk," Sam retorted easily. "We all know the way you talk to your car."

Dean conceded the point with a shrug. "Hey, she's a special lady."

Claire made her way to the card catalog, opening a drawer at random and flicking her way absently through. "You guys get me the best presents. Nobody's ever gotten me a library before."

"Well, _anybody_ can do flowers and candy," Dean joked.

Sam dropped the bags he was holding and came up behind her, sliding his arms around her waist. "Think you can keep yourself occupied while we're gone?"

She rolled her eyes. "I guess," she said, channeling her most annoying teenage self. "How long do you think it'll take?"

They shrugged. "No way to know, really," Dean said. “Could be days, could be weeks. Usually falls somewhere in between.”

“Well then,” she said briskly, turning in Sam’s arms and giving first him, then Dean, a quick kiss. “You should probably show me around so you can get going. The monsters aren’t going to hunt themselves.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” Dean laughed, slinging an arm around her shoulders as Sam picked up the bags again. “You and the library just want to be alone.”

“Maaaybe,” she said, grinning back at him. Sam shook his head fondly at them, unable to hide his smile, and led the way into the rest of the bunker.

 

Claire picked up the phone and answered it absently, her eyes never leaving her computer screen. “Hello?”

“Hey, baby,” Sam said, and she felt her eyes slide closed in the sheer relief of hearing his voice, having real evidence that he was alive and well.

“Hey,” she answered, trying to keep her tone light. “How’s it going?”

“It’s weird,” he admitted. "The family and neighbors all claim they saw a 'fiery shape' fly into the house right before the murder. Pretty sure we've ruled out a ghost or a poltergeist, no local urban legends about this, but that means we have no idea what this thing is or how to stop it."

"That sucks," she said, marking her place in the book she'd been cataloging. "Want me to dig through here and see if I find anything that matches?"

He let out a breath. "That would be great. We're kind of spinning our wheels here until something else happens. And the locals are not very cooperative."

"Where did you say you guys were, exactly?" she asked.

"Middle of nowhere Oklahoma," he answered. "Pretty country, but redneck central."

"Oklahoma..." she mused, tapping her pen against her teeth. "I grew up in Arkansas, but close to the border. What part of Oklahoma?"

"Uh..." he paused for a minute and she could almost see him closing his eyes in thought. "North...east?"

She minimized the database she had open and opened Google maps. "What's the nearest town?" she asked.

"Brushy," he answered, amusement clear in his voice. "I swear I'm not making this up."

"Oh, I know you aren't," she said. "I've driven through Brushy before, it's kind of a wide spot in the road. You're actually in my old stomping grounds. The reason I ask is, do you realize that Oklahoma has a huge number of Native American tribes? If I remember correctly...yeah, that area is primarily Cherokee, although there are a lot of people descended from multiple tribes. Do you think there's anything in here on Cherokee myths?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," he said. "Seems like there's a little bit of everything. That might be a good place to start. We sure haven't found anything to go on."

A cursory search through what little she'd entered into the database turned up nothing, so she moved to the card catalog and opened the Ce-Ch drawer, tucking the phone between her ear and her shoulder. "So the rednecks aren't cooperating with the 'FBI'? I'm shocked."

She could practically hear Sam's eyes rolling. "Yeah, local law enforcement, what there is of it, isn't too bad, but the family isn't interested in talking to us. You'd think they'd want to try whatever they could to figure out what killed their kid."

"Well," Claire said, grabbing a notepad and pencil from the top of the cabinet and noting down locations for some books, "this is the part of the country that has a long, proud heritage of being uncooperative to the authorities. Moonshiners, outlaws...you're actually only a few hours drive from, I kid you not, Robber's Cave, where Jesse James was known to hide. The only times most of these people see someone from the government, it's not a good experience."

"I guess." The line was silent for a few minutes. "I miss you."

She felt a goofy smile spread across her face. “I miss you, too. Let’s get this figured out so you guys can get back home, okay?”

“Okay.”

Claire rubbed her eyes and flipped another page, struggling to focus on the cramped handwriting. She was halfway down the page when the meaning of what she’d read finally sank in. Grabbing her phone, she started at the beginning again, reading more closely, then punched the air in triumph, hitting Sam’s number in her contacts.

He answered practically on the first ring. “Hey, baby. You find something?”

“I think so. It’s a little complicated, though.”

“Okay, hold on,” he said. “I’m gonna put you on speaker so Dean can hear, too.”

She waited impatiently until she heard Dean say, “Okay, sweetheart, go.”

“So in Cherokee mythology, there’re these giant antlered snakes called uktena that live in rivers. The legend goes that the first one was a man who tried to kill the sun and was transformed. Anyway, they’re supposed to have spots all down their body and they’re unkillable unless you shoot them in the seventh spot back from the head, because the heart’s under there.”

“Are you saying a giant river snake is killing these people?” Dean asked. “Cause nobody’s seen that, and it doesn’t explain the fiery whatever that they have seen.”

Claire shook her head, forgetting for a moment that they couldn’t see her. “No, actually the opposite. You see, when someone kills an uktena, they can get the diamond that’s embedded in their forehead, and they have to keep it wrapped in a deerskin in a cave and every week they have to, and I quote, “feed it with the blood of small game.” Plus the blood of a bigger animal every six months. And, get this, “Should he forget to feed it at the proper time it would come out of its cave in a shape of fire and fly through the air to slake its thirst with the lifeblood of the conjurer or some one of his people.”

“Huh,” Sam said. “So, what, someone in this family killed an uktena and forgot to ‘feed’ the diamond? And now it’s killing them?”

“It’s the only thing I could find that fits what’s going on,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “And they might not have known what to do. A lot of people around there, even if they’ve got Native American blood, that doesn’t mean they know anything about it. I’m a member of the Cherokee Nation, tribally enrolled and everything, but my parents didn’t teach us anything about what it means. I’ve picked up a little here and there, but not much.”

“Okay,” Dean interrupted, “but how do we kill a fucking diamond?”

“I don’t know if you can,” she admitted. “The book says that whoever uses it can ‘put it to sleep’, and if the ‘conjuror’ dies, it’s supposed to be buried with him, or if it isn’t, it will try to find his grave for seven years before it ‘sleeps forever.’”

“Why would anybody want this thing in the first place?” Sam asked. “Or is it like a cursed object?”

Claire flipped pages, scanning for something else she’d seen. “Apparently if it’s used correctly, it’s a luck talisman, but whoever owns it can also see the future.”

“Still not sure it’s worth all the blood,” Dean grumbled. “So we’re pretty sure that’s what it is, how do we stop it, if we can’t kill it? Can we feed it?”

“Probably not, unless you two are a little less white-bread than I think you are,” she said. “Says ‘no white man must ever see it.’”

“Well, shit,” Sam said. “So, what? We just walk away?”

“Talk to the family?” Claire said. “Tell the truth about who you are, tell them what we think is going on. Maybe they know someone who knows a traditional medicine man or woman who could take charge of this thing. Unless Dean can figure out how to kill a diamond, that’s probably going to be your best bet.”

Silence for a moment. “You know,” Dean said finally, “that’s a good idea.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course it is. Have you met me? I have great ideas.”

“You do,” Sam agreed, the grin coming through loud and clear. “We’re gonna go see what we can do about this. Call you tomorrow, okay, baby?”

“You’d better,” she said, mock-threatening. “If I don’t hear back from you two on a regular basis, I’m gonna drive down there myself.”

“We’ll be good,” Dean promised, amused. “Miss you.”

“Miss you, too,” she said, pausing long enough to keep the word starting with L from slipping out instead. “Go save the day.”


	13. When You Beg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is a dick, but he apologizes.

"What the fuck is this twangy redneck shit?" Dean yelled. Claire jumped and turned down the volume on the Jason Aldean song that had long since faded into the background for her before launching herself out of the chair where she'd been sitting. Dean oofed a little as she thumped into his chest but dropped his duffel and hugged her back. He was grinning when she finally pulled away, and so was Sam, when he got the same treatment a few seconds later.

"Missed you," she said thickly, cheek pressed against Sam's shirt, his heart beating steadily under her ear. "Both of you."

Sam kissed the top of her head. "We missed you, too, baby."

She didn't pull back from Sam until she was sure she wasn't going to cry.

"But seriously, sweetheart," Dean said, face completely serious, "You can't just play this kind of shit around here. We have standards."

Claire narrowed her eyes. "First of all, you're the one who wanted me to be here instead of in my apartment, and where I go, my music goes. Secondly, you really want to go there?"

Sam sat down in a chair suddenly, one hand rubbing over his mouth and failing to hide a grin.

Dean blinked, patronizing grin firmly on his face. "Uh, yeah?"

"So the man who owns everything ever produced by The Eagles and Creedence Clearwater Revival is calling my music 'twangy redneck shit'?"

"Hey," he protested, "that's different. Those are classics."

She smiled pityingly at him, patting his cheek. "Whatever you say, dear." She gathered her computer up and headed down the hall to her room, singing "It's okay to not like things. It's okay, but don't be a dick about it. It's okay to not like things...but don't be a dick about the things you don't like."

Behind her she heard Sam burst into laughter.

 

Claire glanced up at the knock on her door, then back down at her Kindle. “Come in.”

She heard the door open, and then silence. She looked up to see Dean hovering in the doorway, clean t-shirt, jeans, and bare feet, hair still damp from his shower, looking uncertain. She let the silence stretch for a few minutes.

“I…” he trailed off, rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I...I was a dick.”

She turned off the Kindle and set it aside. “Yeah, you were,” she agreed evenly.

He met her eyes for a minute before dropping them again. “I’m sorry,” he said finally. “I’m sorry the first thing I said to you when I saw you for the first time in almost two weeks was me being a dick.”

She sighed, patting the bed next to her. He came across the room gingerly and sat down, still acting like he was walking on eggshells.

“I’m sorry I went all passive-aggressive on you and stormed off to my room like a teenager having a bitch-fit. I’ve got a nasty migraine--seems like I had one every day while you guys were gone.” She smiled wryly. “I get bitchy when I’m hurting. Sorry.”

He smirked, seeming to regain a little of his confidence. “Headache, huh? You know what the best thing is for that?”

“What?” she asked, waiting for the punchline.

“Orgasm,” he said simply, leaning over to kiss her possessively, licking his way into her mouth to explore it like he’d never tasted her before. “Preferably multiple,” he added, pulling back when they were both breathing heavily.

“Oh, really?” she said, eyebrows raised skeptically.

He nodded solemnly, his eyes crinkling with the effort of not smiling. “Scientifically proven.”

She grinned at him despite feeling like someone was tightening a clamp around her skull. “Well, who am I to argue with science?”

He grinned back and lifted her until she was straddling him, pulling her in for another kiss. She moaned into his mouth when she realized he was already hard, his cock pushing up against her even through his jeans. He broke the kiss to peel off her shirt and her bra.

“Constricting clothes can make it worse,” he murmured, hands on her hips holding her down against him as he kissed his way down her chest. “You really should be naked.”

“I’ll--ah!--keep that in mind,” she gasped as he licked a tightening circle around her breast, circling her nipple until she was almost twisting out of his grasp before he finally took pity on her and closed his mouth over it. He sucked for a minute before closing his teeth lightly on her nipple, now so hard it ached, and she felt him smile against her skin as she cursed, the feeling of his mouth on her breast, his hands on her hips, and the long, hard line of his dick pressing against her clit almost but not quite enough to make her come.

He finally released the nipple, leaning back a bit to admire his handiwork. “Yeah, we should probably get you out of those pants,” he murmured, rolling them over so they were lying on the bed and tugging the waistband of her yoga pants down. “It was nice to watch you walk away in 'em, but naked is better.”

Between the two of them, they managed to make short work of her pants and underwear, and she managed to pull his shirt over his head before he leaned back down for another long, hungry kiss, the weight of his body so good as it pressed her into the mattress. “Where was I?” he purred, tracing the shell of her ear with his tongue and chuckling softly when she shivered underneath him.

“Here?” he asked, scraping his teeth lightly over the side of her neck. She tilted her head back to give him better access, but he just shook his head, sliding down her body and cupping the breast he hadn’t played with before. “Oh, that’s right. Don’t want it to feel neglected.”

He alternated between her breasts for what seemed like forever, his clever fingers tormenting whichever one his mouth wasn’t on at the time, completely ignoring her moans and the frantic movements of her hips under him, but never quite giving her enough stimulation to come.

“Please, Dean,” she begged, a little shocked at how wrecked her voice was.

He smiled wickedly, moving back up for a quick, hard kiss. “I like it when you beg,” he rasped, sliding back down her body until he settled between her legs, his shoulders pressing them apart. Instead of teasing like she expected, he licked her clit immediately, making her legs shake and try to close on his head. He stayed focused on her clit, using lips and teeth and tongue until she came so hard she couldn't even scream. He didn't let up until she shoved him roughly away, too sensitive to handle the sensations.

He grinned up at her, crawling up her body and leaning in for a long, filthy kiss, letting her taste herself on his tongue. "That's one," he said when he finally pulled away. "How's your head?"

"What head?" she asked, earning another grin.

"That's what I like to hear. You gonna come in, Sammy?" he asked, not turning around. "Or just lurk in the door the whole time?"

She looked over at the door to see that yes, Sam was standing there, apparently rubbing his erection through his jeans. He grinned and came across the room, dropping into the chair by the bed and unzipping his pants. "Don't mind me," he said cheerfully, pulling out his cock. "I'll just sit here and watch."

Dean grinned back at him and pulled a condom packet from his jeans before pulling them off and dropping them on the floor. He slid the condom on, then rolled them over so Claire was on top. "Wanna see you ride me, sweetheart. Let's give Sammy a show, huh?"

She smiled and sat up, positioning Dean's cock between her legs before slipping slowly, teasingly down on him. She could tell she was wet enough to take him all the way in, but she worked her way down, enjoying the way both of them watched her. Dean bit his lip but kept his hands on the bed, fisting them in the blanket as he let her set the pace.

Once she had him fully inside, she circled her hips, sinking down just a tiny bit further. He groaned. “So that’s how we’re gonna do this?” he said, pushing up into her.

“Maybe,” she said, moving just a little faster, enjoying the slick slide of his cock inside her.

He smiled evilly. “Fine, then,” he said, sliding his hands up her torso to cup her breasts. She sucked in a breath as he closed his hands just enough to have his fingers brushing her areolae...and stopped. She whimpered, just a little, and he chuckled. “Need something, sweetheart?”

She rolled her hips, grinding her clit against him, trying to move his fingers closer to her nipples, with no success. “You want something, you’re gonna have to ask nicely,” he purred, his fingers stroking tiny circles on the increasingly sensitive skin of her breasts.

She glanced over at Sam, but he shook his head. “Don’t look at me, baby,” he said with a wicked grin. “This is between you and Dean.”

“You and me, sweetheart,” he agreed, pulling her attention back to him. “What do you want?”

She huffed out a frustrated breath. “I want you to play with my tits.”

“Like this?” he teased, squeezing her breasts lightly.

“No!” she snapped, moving faster.

“Ask me nicely,” he ordered. “Ask nicely and I’ll let you come.”

She shuddered and gave in. “Please play with my nipples, Dean. Please.”

“I do like it when you beg,” he said, sliding his fingers in to toy lightly with her nipples, smiling when she sucked in a breath and moved faster. “Like this?”

“Harder, please, oh, fuck, yes, Dean, just like that,” she groaned, letting her eyes fall closed and moving faster still. Her hands came up to grip his wrists and she was vaguely aware that her nails were biting into his skin, but right now her focus was on keeping his hands exactly where they were. She could feel the orgasm building, hovering just out of reach, hear herself chanting “please, please, please,” and then Dean squeezed her nipples just perfectly and she came, clenching around him.

She shuddered over him, trying to recover, but he kept moving, fucking up into her for a few more strokes until he groaned and thrust up into her hard, deep enough to trigger another orgasm when he pressed against her already sensitive clit.

She finally collapsed on top of Dean, their chests heaving together, and she felt the bed dip as Sam joined them. “Is that how we’re always going to apologize?” he asked after a few minutes.

“I think I could get behind that,” Dean snorted beneath her. “How’s the headache, sweetheart?”

She lifted her head experimentally, slowly at first, and smiled. “Seems to be gone. I guess you really do know your science.”

He kissed her. “I’m happy to repeat the cure anytime you need it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter fought me for a bit, but I think it's okay now. I'm trying to figure out how I'm ever going to advance the plot, but these three just can't keep their hands off each other.
> 
> The song Claire sings to Dean can be heard [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0la5DBtOVNI).


	14. Not Giving Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They find a lead!

"Really? Thank you so much, Paolo" Claire said, tucking the phone between ear and shoulder to check her email. "Yes, I have it now. Yes, definitely, next time I'm in Rome. How could I forget?" She rolled her eyes at Sam, who was watching her with eyebrows raised. "Yes. Yes. Ciao."

"What's up?" Sam asked, while Dean frowned at her.

Claire grinned at both of them. "Paolo is a lovely man who works for the Vatican. He managed to dig up the manuscript where Michael cursed Cain and emailed me scans of the pertinent passage."

Dean frowned more, not willing to be distracted. "You two sounded pretty cozy on the phone there."

She laughed, pulling him down for a kiss. "Paolo is nearly eighty. He takes me out for gelato at the same place he takes his granddaughters and nags me about when I'm going to settle down and have babies."

"Oh," Dean said, deflated. "So. Uh. What does the manuscript say?"

"I'll need to take a look," she said, turning back to her computer and opening the first scan. "Okay, looks like Greek. Let's run it through the translation program and see what we can see."

Sam came around the library table and set a calming hand on Dean's shoulder. "It's gonna take a little while to figure out anything useful. How about we go pick up some groceries while we wait?"

"Yeah, okay," Dean said. "You need anything, Claire?"

"Hmm?" she said absently. "Oh, uh...no, I can't think of anything. I'm gonna work on this."

"Okay," Sam said, steering Dean toward the door. "Back later."

 

When they came back in, loaded down with grocery bags, Claire didn't even twitch, hunched over her computer, eyes scanning rapidly across the screen, pen flying over a sheet of paper. They exchanged glances and, by mutual agreement, opted not to disturb her, moving quietly into the kitchen and putting away the groceries.

When they were done, Sam disappeared and Dean decided it was late enough to start dinner. He pulled out the steaks he'd had thawing in the fridge, rinsed them off and coated them thickly with kosher salt. Eyeballing the thickness, he set the timer on his phone for ninety minutes and set the platter aside.

He had the bottom piecrust rolled out and fitted into the pan, peeled and chopped the apples, and was tossing them with sugar, cinnamon, allspice, nutmeg, and vanilla when Claire wandered into the kitchen with a notebook, eyes still vague and distracted. "Pie?"

He shrugged. "They had a sale on vanilla ice cream, and I wanted pie to go with, so.." He poured the filling into the crust, set the bowl in the sink, and started weaving strips of piecrust into the top lattice. "Homemade's better if you've got the time, and I did today."

"Can't argue with that," Claire said, stealing a slice of apple from the mound of filling.

"Any luck?" he asked, forcing a casual tone as he crimped the edges of the crusts together.

She bit her lip, rubbing her forehead. "Maybe. I texted Sam. Let's wait til he gets down here so I can tell it all at once."

He frowned, noticing the pinched look on her face. "Headache again?"

She closed her eyes for a moment. "Yeah. It's not so bad when I'm working, but when I'm not focused on anything..."

Dean slid the pie into the oven and washed his hands. "You said you had one every day while we were gone?"

"Not every day..." she trailed off for a minute, eyes distant. "Shit, yeah, every day."

"And you've had one every day since we got back," he said, retrieving a bottle of painkillers and offering them to her. She raised an eyebrow at the name on the prescription label, but accepted two pills and dry-swallowed them. "Maybe you should go see a doctor."

"Maybe," she said. "There might not be anything they can do. People have had headaches that have lasted for years before, and doctors weren't able to find any reason."

"At least they could give you some of the good drugs. Not that I mind helping you with the cure," he said, smirking at her, "but I'd like to be sure nothing's eating your brain. I've gotten kind of attached to it."

“Attached to what?” Sam asked as he entered the kitchen, frowning as he noticed Claire rubbing her forehead. “Another headache?”

“Sammy, tell her she needs to see a doctor,” Dean ordered, turning away to scrub potatoes. “This can’t be normal.”

Sam moved behind her and started massaging her neck and shoulders. “He’s right. How many days straight is this?”

“Twenty? No, twenty-one,” she admitted, groaning a little as Sam worked loose some of the tension her muscles had been carrying. “You’re probably right. I just hate going to the doctor. I guess I’ll have to find one here, unless you guys are going to drive me back to Manhattan.”

“We will if we have to,” Dean said gruffly, pricking the potatoes with a fork and setting them on a baking sheet. “I don’t like seeing you like this.”

"Probably not as much as I dislike being like this," she said. "Moving on, would anybody like to know what the manuscript said?"

"Lay it on me," Dean said, stomach churning.

"First, I'm not at all sure how accurate this is, because according to whoever translated it into Greek, the original claimed to be written by Metatron as a record of the events in Genesis," she said, eyes on Dean to gauge his reaction.

Dean put the potatoes into the oven and turned back, rolling his eyes. "Figures. Dude's got his fingers in all kinds of pies."

"So we take it with a grain of salt," Sam said behind her, fingers still patiently unknotting her tense muscles. "Still the best lead we've got. The only lead, really. What does it say about Cain?"

"So in this version of the Cain and Abel story, Cain killed Abel to save him from Lucifer, right?"

Dean nodded. "That's what Cain told me."

"According to this, Michael was the one who Marked Cain," she said, looking back down at her notes. "He was still pissed about Lucifer's Fall and he wanted to mess up his plans. But this says, since he wasn't God, he couldn't make it permanent. There had to be a way to reverse it."

Sam's hands stopped moving. "That's the first good news we've heard about this whole thing."

"What's the catch?" Dean asked, his eyes on hers.

She shrugged. "Since Michael is--was?--a dick, as previously stated, the conditions for reversing it are ones that would be impossible for Cain to meet. The Mark can only be removed by an archangel possessing 'a brother betrayed', wielding the First Blade. Since Cain killing Abel is what got him the Mark, there was no one living that could remove it."

"But now Dean has it," Sam said slowly. "So if we get an archangel to possess me--"

"What archangel?" Dean interrupted harshly. "Lucifer and Michael are in the Pit; we're not pulling their sorry asses out again, even if they would do us a favor, which they won't. Cas killed Raphael. Gabriel's probably dead, but even if he isn't, we have no way of finding him and no guarantee he wouldn't fuck us over. I wouldn't trust him in Sammy's meatsuit for a hot second. Not to mention we don't have the First Blade, and I don't think Crowley's likely to just hand it over if we ask nicely."

Claire pulled his hands into hers, rubbing her thumbs over his knuckles. "There's a chance, Dean. Maybe not a good one, but if all those stories about you two are true, you've come out ahead of worse odds."

"She's right," Sam agreed. "We're not giving up on this. We're not giving up on you."

Dean blinked a couple of times. "Okay," he said, his voice just a little rougher than usual.

"We should probably see if we've got what we need to summon Crowley," Sam said. "See what he wants in exchange for the Blade."

"Yeah, I should call Cas and see if he has any idea if Gabriel might still be around," Dean said, freeing one hand to pull his phone out of his pocket, almost dropping it when it buzzed in his hand. He swiped the screen and froze.

"Dean?" Claire asked, squeezing the hand she still held.

Dean's eyes never left the screen. "It's Cain."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun DUN!!!
> 
> Wow, there was plot and character development and stuff! I might actually be able to finish this off in under 100k words...*checks word count*...maybe.
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and comments. For those of you missing your regularly scheduled smut, don't worry, more's coming :)


	15. Whatever You Call It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean make plans, and Claire gets to meet Cas

The text message was simple and stark.

_ Time to keep your promise. Bring your brother. 37.386447, -121.743163. One week. - Cain _

"When do we leave?" Sam asked.

"Oh, you're not going," Dean snapped.

Sam's mouth flattened into a mutinous line. "If you don't take me, I'm just going to follow you. You need somebody to watch your back. Besides, he said to bring me. What happens if you don't?"

"Worst case scenario?" Dean shrugged. "He takes me out so we don't have to worry about me going demon again."

"Not an option," Claire snapped. "Sam's right. He needs to go."

Dean scowled. "What, now you're both ganging up on me?"

Claire kissed his scowl. "Only when we're right and you're being stubborn."

"You're ignoring the fact that I don't have the blade," Dean said. "I might not even be able to kill him. What happens if he gets pissed about that and tries to take me out?"

Claire grinned evilly. "Point him at Crowley and watch the fireworks?"

"Not a bad idea," Sam said. "But we should probably at least try to get it back from Crowley first."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "I think we've got everything we need for a summoning down in the storeroom."

They turned and headed toward the storeroom. The two men stopped dead in their tracks five seconds later, so suddenly that Claire couldn't keep from running into them. "Where are you going?" Dean asked, eyebrow arched.

"I've never seen a summoning before," she answered, trailing off at the identical stubborn expressions.

"You're not seeing one today, either," Dean said. "The last time Crowley wanted leverage on us, he kidnapped my girlfriend and had one of his demons possess her. No fucking way do I want him knowing that you even exist."

"Please," Sam said, interrupting her before Dean's autocratic tone could have her digging in her heels. "Crowley's ruined so much for us. Don't let him ruin this, too."

Claire closed her eyes, counting silently as she fought her knee-jerk reaction to Dean’s ultimatum. "Okay. I'll stay here. But I want a complete report afterward."

Dean kissed her lightly. "Deal." He rested his forehead against hers for a minute before turning away.

Sam squeezed her hand and murmured, "Thank you," before he followed.

 

Dean answered the phone. "Hello? Oh, yeah, just a minute."

Claire watched, bemused, as he hung up the phone and sprinted up the stairs to open the bunker door and pull the dark-haired man standing there into a hug.

"Cas, man, good to see you," he said when they separated.

_This must be Castiel,_ she realized, eyeing the man in the suit and trench coat with a little more interest as he followed Dean down the stairs.

"Claire, this is Castiel," Dean said, confirming her suspicions. He slipped an arm around her waist. "Cas, this is Claire, our--" he broke off, looking at her quizzically "--girlfriend?"

"I dunno," she said thoughtfully. "That sounds awfully high-school. And I don't know if we've ever technically dated. I can't think of any better word for it, though. Lover? Paramour? Main squeeze?"

Castiel's blue eyes darted back and forth between them, the corners of his mouth quirked up as though he was amused by the exchange. "Well, whatever you call it, it's nice to meet you, Claire," he said, offering her a hand.

"Likewise," she said, shaking his hand. "Thanks for keeping my boys alive so many times."

"I do my best," he said mournfully, eyes dancing with amusement. "It's a tough job, though."

"I bet," she agreed, grinning back at him.

"Hey," Sam protested as he entered the room. "At least I'm usually _trying_ not to die."

Claire patted his cheek gently. "That's true, dear. I'd just like you to be a little better at it."

Sam snorted before turning his attention to Cas. "Hey, man, what's up?"

"Dean asked me to come here," Castiel said, turning a quizzical gaze on Dean. "He said he needed my help?"

"Yeah, we do," Dean said. He quickly filled Cas in on the situation with Cain. "But I got to thinking, what if it's a trap? Crowley was there when I got the mark, he knows what Cain made me promise. Maybe he's trying to lure us out so he can get at the bunker, or get access to Claire. I'd feel better if there was someone here to help if there's an attack, or if Claire needs anything."

Castiel nodded. "I would be happy to help. I wish I could go with you, though. Just in case."

Dean laughed. "I'd like to see the look on Cain's face if I showed up with an angel in tow, but given the way Michael and Lucifer screwed him over, it's probably not the best idea."

"No, probably not," Cas sighed. "I'll go put my things in a bedroom, then, if that's all right?"

"Go for it, man," Dean agreed. "Dinner'll be ready in about an hour."

 

Claire slowly became aware that someone was speaking to her. She looked up from her computer to see Sam standing by the library table, a fond smile on his face. “Sorry. What did you say?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to watch a movie or a show or something, since we’re leaving in the morning,” he said, not seeming at all put out at having to repeat himself. “Dean’s showing Cas the garage and some other parts of the bunker he hasn’t seen yet, so it’ll just be the two of us.”

“Sure,” she answered, closing the laptop. “I was getting to the point where my eyes were starting to cross anyway.”

He offered a hand to pull her up out of the hard wooden chair and kept her hand in his as he led the way to his room. She rubbed her ass with her free hand. “Those chairs suck. Think you could pick me up an ergonomic office chair on your way back from California?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he promised, flicking on the light and leading her into his room. He let go of her hand at last, leaving her to make herself comfortable on the bed while he grabbed remotes.

“What are we watching?” she asked, arranging the pillows before laying back.

“You can pick,” he said, turning on the TV and the laptop hooked to it. “I really don’t care.”

“Avengers?” she asked hopefully.

He grinned at her and pressed play on the movie that was already showing on the screen. “How did I know that was going to be your choice?”

“Because you know me,” she said simply, snuggling into him as he joined her on the bed.

He smiled and pressed a kiss into her hair. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I do.”

Before too long Claire realized that, as much as she loved the movie, she was having trouble focusing. Sam’s big hand was rubbing circles on her back, occasionally pulling the back of her t-shirt up enough that his fingers skimmed lightly over her skin, making her squirm against him.

“You okay?” he asked the third time it happened. His tone was innocent, but there was a glint in his eyes that said he knew exactly what was going on.

“I’m fine,” she answered sweetly. “Just feeling a little warm.” She sat up enough to strip off her shirt and toss it to the floor, then cuddled back up against Sam, making sure to press her breasts firmly against him so he could get a good look at the cleavage created by her red lace bra. “That’s better. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Not at all,” he said smoothly, although his voice had taken on a telltale rasp. He returned to rubbing those maddening circles on her back, but his rhythm faltered when she took a deep breath.

Finally, just as she was about to crawl on top of Sam and kiss him until he agreed to touch her everywhere else, he growled “Fuck this,” and rolled them over until he was pressing her into the mattress. He kissed her long and deep, wet and filthy, the soft cotton of his t-shirt rubbing against the exposed skin of her chest and belly. She moaned under his mouth when he rolled his hips, pressing the long, hard line of his cock down between her legs until he was grinding against her clit.

When he finally lifted his head, they were both breathing like they’d just finished a marathon. He pulled back just enough to strip his t-shirt off and send it flying before he lowered his head and ran his tongue along the edge where the lace of her bra met skin. He grinned up at her when she moaned and arched up under him, and then he slid his tongue under the lace, tracing the edge and dipping under it until she said, “Fuck, Sam, please,” and he sat up enough to shuck off his jeans and start unbuttoning hers.

“I like it when you beg, too,” he confided, pulling down the zipper and peeling her jeans and panties down her legs. “Wish we had time to play, but Dean and Cas could be back from the garage anytime. So this is going to have to be quick.”

He slid two fingers inside her, pumping them lazily in and out and humming his approval of the noises she made as he reached for the bedside table with the other hand and retrieved a condom. “You’re already so wet for me, baby.”

She tried to answer, really she did, but then he slid a third finger into her and she moaned, pushing her hips up to take him deeper. “That’s it,” he crooned, ripping the condom packet open with his teeth and rolling it on while keeping the same slow, measured rhythm with the fingers that were fucking her. “You like that, don’t you? But it’s not enough. You want more.”

She nodded, almost frantic with the need for more, and his grin became predatory. “What do you want, baby? Can you tell me?”

She licked her lips and swallowed once, then again. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Oh, you can do better than that,” he admonished, slowing his fingers. “We’ve been through this before. Be specific. What do you want me to do?”

She closed her eyes, feeling the flush bleed from her cheeks down her neck and across her chest. “Want you to hold me down and fuck me into the mattress. I want your cock in my pussy. It feels so good, makes me so wet when you fuck me. Please, Sam.”

He pulled his fingers out and positioned his dick at her entrance. “This what you want?”

She panted and arched her hips up toward him. “Yes, please, Sam, fuck me.”

“Like this?” He slid slowly inside, fucking her with short, shallow thrusts.

“More,” she begged. “More, please.”

He took her wrists and pinned them to the mattress, thrusting in harder. “Is that what you want?”

She twisted under him, pulling at his hold, astonished by the liquid rush that went through her when she couldn’t pull free. “Please, Sam, I need more.”

He leaned into her harder, pressing her down into the mattress with his weight. “More what, baby?” he growled into her ear. “Tell me what you want.”

“God, Sam, please fuck me harder,” she groaned, closing her eyes. “I want every inch of your cock inside me. I want you to fuck me hard and fast.”

She felt him smile against her ear. “You’re a greedy little slut, aren’t you, baby? Don’t care if Dean and Cas hear the noise you’re making, you just want me to fuck you.”

She shuddered underneath him and he nipped at her earlobe. “Oh, you like that,” he said fucking her just like she’d asked for. “Like thinking about Dean and Cas hearing the way you beg for my cock? Maybe we should just call them in here and let them watch, let them see how much you love it.”

She wasn’t sure if it was Sam’s words or his forceful thrusts or his grip on her wrists, or a combination of all three, but she came, shaking underneath him, and he fucked her through it before he groaned her name and thrust deep into her one more time, groaning her name before he collapsed on top of her.

After a few minutes to catch his breath, he lifted his head. “Hey,” he said, a little hesitant. “Was that...did I go too far there?”

She bludgeoned her brain into something approaching working order. “No…” she said slowly, replaying the last bit in her head. “I don’t think so. I’m a little surprised, though. I never thought I had an exhibitionist streak, but thinking about Dean and Cas walking in on us…” she trailed off, shivering a little. “I wouldn’t want to do something like that for real without talking about it first. I know you and Dean are a package deal, and to be honest, I wouldn’t want to choose between you even if you wanted me to. But bringing someone else in...that’s something that should be discussed beforehand.”

“Definitely fair,” he said, leaning down to steal a kiss before he pulled out and went to deal with the condom. “Want to finish the movie?” he asked as he returned to the bed, pulling the covers over both of them.

“Sure,” she said, yawning lightly. “Not sure how long I’ll be able to stay awake, but let’s give it a shot.”

“Sleep if you want to, baby,” he said, his hand rubbing up and down her arm. “Stay here as long as you want.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one ran a little long, but I thought Claire and Sam deserved some alone time. Going to be playing with some of the boys' POV in the next chapter or two, so that should be exciting. Or difficult. Probably difficult.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's commented and bookmarked and left kudos. I feel incredibly lucky that so many people enjoy what I'm doing.


	16. Don't Care What It Takes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys head out to meet Cain, and Castiel wants to know Claire's intentions.

Standing on the landing, Claire kissed Dean fiercely, cradling his face in her hands, then pulled back to look him in the eyes. “You listen to me, Dean Winchester. I don’t care what it takes, you’re coming back to me. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, cocky smirk not quite reaching his eyes.

She kissed him again before pulling away and turning to Sam. She pulled him down for a kiss, too. “That goes for you too, Sam. I don’t care who or what you two have to kill, maim, or threaten. I expect to see both of you walking through that door before the end of the week.”

“Got it,” he answered, pulling her back in for one more kiss. “See you soon.”

Dean pulled Cas in for a quick hug. “Take care of our girl, huh, Cas?”

“I will ensure she is safe,” Cas answered. “Be careful, both of you.”

“Aren’t we always?” Dean said, hitching his bag up onto his shoulder. “Don’t worry. Be back before you know it.”

And then they were gone, the door of the bunker slamming shut behind them in a way Claire tried very hard not to think of as ominous or final.

  
“Can I ask you a question?”

Castiel’s question brought Claire back to an awareness of her surroundings. She saved the bibliographic record she’d just created before answering. “Sure, go for it.”

“I’m sorry if this seems rude or offensive,” he said a little awkwardly. “You are engaged in a sexual and romantic relationship with both Sam and Dean, correct?”

She smiled. “Yes, I am.”

He tilted his head a little to one side. “That...is not the norm for this culture, is it?”

Claire snorted and rolled her eyes. “There is no such thing as normal. You’ve been kicking around with Sam and Dean for long enough, I’d think you would’ve noticed that. It’s not a choice the majority of people make, true.”

“So why did you?” he asked, seeming genuinely curious about the answer.

She suppressed a giggle at the fact that she was explaining her sex life and relationship choices to a freaking angel (who wasn’t judging or condemning them)(take that, Mom and Dad!). “Honestly? At first, I was trying to forget. Sex is good for that, at least for a little while.”

“You said ‘at first.’” He pounced on her word choice. “So things have changed since then?”

She shrugged helplessly. “It works. And I’m not just talking about the sex. Sam and Dean...it’s like they’re two parts of a whole. Except that makes it sound like they’re not complete on their own, which is wrong. If I’d met either one alone I still would’ve fallen, hard. But together...they’re more, you know?”

Cas nodded. “Their souls are linked. They are separate people. They can stand on their own. But they’re stronger together, always.”

“Huh,” Claire said, pursing her lips in thought. “I didn’t know that...do they know that?”

It was his turn to shrug. “I’m not certain. Do you think it’s important that they know?”

“If they don’t already, then yeah, I think it’s the kind of information they should have,” she answered.

“When they return, I’ll ensure that they know,” he promised. “But you said at first, it was just sex. Is that all the relationship is to you?”

She paused a moment, examining his face. “Castiel, are you asking me what my intentions are?”

He ducked his head, flushing slightly along his cheekbones. “Sam and Dean have both been hurt a great deal in the past. They seem very fond of you; I’d rather not see them hurt again if I can help it.”

“It’s not just sex,” she said softly, covering his hand with hers. “I care about them, a lot.”

His smile was small, but the happiness and relief in it were almost blinding. “Good,” he said simply.

 

Claire flopped down on Sam’s bed and checked the time. _They’ve probably stopped for the night. Dean said they were going to take it easy._ Before she could second-guess herself any further, she picked up her phone and hit Dean’s number.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he answered. “What’s up?”

“Missing you,” she said honestly. “Are you still on the road?”

He chuckled. “Nah, we got a room for the night. No point killing ourselves to get there when the meet isn’t until day after tomorrow. Everything okay there?”

She rolled over to her back, closing her eyes and letting his voice wash over her. “Yeah, nothing weird or scary. I’m about a quarter done getting the library database set up. Castiel watches a lot of movies.”

“Yeah, he does that,” Dean said. “He used to be trying to understand humans better, but now I think it’s just gotten to be a habit.”

Silence fell for a few moments. It could have been awkward, but it wasn’t, the steady sound of Dean’s breathing on the other end of the line comforting and reassuring instead.

“I should probably let you go,” she said reluctantly.

“You don’t have to,” he answered. “I’ll stay on the phone as long as you want.”

“That could get awkward when you have to go shower,” she joked, breath catching a little at the mental image of Dean in the shower, water tracing the lines of muscle she’d come to know so well.

“I already showered when we got the room,” he confided, his voice low and intimate. “This room looks a lot like the one we had when you first met us. Even got the same little table. I had to jerk off in the shower, thinking about you bent over that table, begging Sammy to fuck you.”

Over her intake of breath, she heard the rumble of Sam’s voice in the background, but couldn’t make out the words. “Fine,” Dean said, amusement clear in his voice, and the phone beeped. When his voice came back, it sounded somewhat further away. “Sammy says if we’re gonna have phone sex, he wants you on speaker so he can hear, too. That okay with you?”

Claire swallowed. “...yeah, thats...that’s fine.”

“Where are you, baby?” Sam asked, his voice slightly tinny but still with that unmistakable rasp.

“In your room,” she admitted. “Lying on the bed.”

He chuckled, low and dark. “I bet it still smells like sex from when I fucked you last night, doesn’t it?”

She swallowed back a moan. “A little bit.”

“You should’ve seen her, Dean,” he said, and fuck, it should _not_ be that hot to hear him talking about her like that, like it was a private conversation between him and Dean that she just happened to overhear. “Begging for my cock, begging me to fuck her. And she got so wet when I mentioned you and Cas walking in on us, I thought she was gonna come right then and there.”

“Is that so?” Dean’s breathing was audible even through speakerphone. “You like thinking about getting caught?”

She actually whimpered, which would’ve been embarrassing if she wasn’t so turned on. “Y-yeah.”

“Take off your shirt,” Dean ordered, and she pulled her t-shirt over her head, tucking the phone back between her ear and her shoulder as soon as she was done. “What bra are you wearing?” he asked.

“I’m not,” she answered. “I was getting ready for bed, and I was tired of wearing it, so I took it off.”

She could hear both men groan. “When we get back, I want you to show us how you get yourself off,” Sam said. “Lay you down in my bed and watch you touch yourself until you come.”

“Only if I get to watch you, too,” she shot back.

Dean chuckled. “Whenever you want, sweetheart. Play with your tits for us. Nice and gentle at first, okay?”

“Okay,” She cupped her breasts in her hands, letting her thumbs skate lightly over her nipples.

“Tell us how it feels,” Sam said, breathing harder.

She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip. “It feels good, but I want more. Want it harder.”

“Go ahead,” he said, and she squeezed her nipples harder as soon as she had permission, flicking her nails across the skin. “That’s it, baby,” he encouraged, apparently able to hear her moan just fine. “Are your nipples nice and hard?”

“Yes,” she gasped, rolling them between her fingers. “They’re so hard it almost hurts. I wish you were here to touch them.”

“So do we,” Dean rasped. “Unbutton your jeans for us, take them off.”

She managed to push her jeans down her legs without dropping the phone. “They’re off.”

“Good girl,” he said, voice low and warm. “Slide your fingers down into your panties. Is your pussy wet for us?”

She cried out a little as her fingers brushed the spot at the base of her clit that made her legs tremble. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

She could hear the smile in Sam’s voice and it made her swallow hard. “Yes, my pussy’s wet,” she mumbled, feeling herself flush just from saying the words, which was ridiculous.

“Good,” Sam purred. “I want you to slide your fingers back up and play with your clit. Can you do that for us, baby?”

She obeyed, feeling the fine tremble in her thighs as her fingers found the right spot. “Y-yes,” she gasped, moving the fingers of her other hand back to her breast.

“What are you doing with your other hand, sweetheart?” Dean asked.

“Playing with my nipples,” she admitted.

“Dirty girl,” he said, his voice rough. “Gonna come for us like this? Touching yourself for us?”

“Yes,” she moaned, her voice growing higher as she got closer and closer to coming.

“Want you to be loud for us,” Sam rasped, his breathing almost as fast as hers. “Let us hear you, baby.”

She threw her head back against the pillow and closed her eyes. “Yes, yes, yes,” she chanted, feeling her hips arch up off the bed as her fingers worked her up further, remembering every hot, dirty thing they’d done with her, Sam’s hands pinning her to the bed, Dean’s mouth on her pussy, being so trapped between them that there was nowhere to go, nothing to do except feel, and she sobbed out their names as she came.

The afterglow was rudely interrupted by the opening door. “Claire? Do you require assistance? I thought I heard--” Castiel stopped mid-sentence, staring, flushed.

Claire had a moment to think about the picture she must make, sprawled across Sam’s bed, practically naked, with one hand on her breast and one hand down her panties, before he stammered out “I..I’m sorry. I thought…” and backed out abruptly, closing the door quickly.

“Was that Cas?” Sam asked.

“Did you do that on purpose?” Claire asked. She tried to snarl, but apparently she was incapable of snarls so soon after an orgasm.

“Hey, Dean started this,” he said, slightly defensive. “I didn’t plan it out with Cas or anything, if that’s what you’re asking. We miss you already, and phone sex is a lot better than just jerking off in the shower while I think about you.”

She softened. “Okay. But next time, I’m locking the door.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They finally cooperated long enough to have phone sex! Yay!!! And I actually got to do some writing over this Christmas break!!! Extra yay!!!
> 
> I'm a little sorry about dragging Cas into this; I really wasn't intending to. But these characters seriously have minds of their own.


	17. A Promise Kept

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel isn't sure what's causing Claire's headaches either. In the meanwhile, Sam and Dean meet with Cain.
> 
> (Sorry I suck at writing summaries; everything good I come up with is too spoilery)

Claire pushed back her chair and stood up to carry the drawer of catalog cards she’d just finished entering back to the cabinet. About halfway there the migraine crashed down on her, demanding her full attention now that she was no longer tightly focused on her work, and she couldn’t help the whimper that escaped. Sliding the drawer back into the cabinet, she closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the cool wood, trying to level out her breathing. It didn’t help. The pain was like a band clamped around her head, screwing infinitesimally tighter with each torturous throb.

“Claire? Are you okay?” Castiel’s voice was hesitant. He’d apologized for bursting in on her the night before, but the awkwardness between them was still palpable.

“Headache,” she managed, breathing through the pain. “I get them sometimes.”

It was interesting, and would be a lot more interesting if her head would stop that fucking _throbbing_ , that she could _hear_ the slight frown in Castiel’s voice. “Dean mentioned that you’ve been having them frequently. Is this something you were prone to in the past?”

She shook her head and immediately regretted it. “Not this often, and not this severe. Maybe I’m allergic to something in the bunker, but I haven’t had any signs of an allergic reaction.”

“It could be many things, I suppose,” Castiel said, coming closer. “I have very little Grace remaining. I’m not certain I can do anything to help, but would you allow me to at least try to determine the reason these are happening so frequently?”

This time she caught herself before she could nod. “Yeah, please. Just knowing for sure that I don’t have an inoperable tumor or something like that would be good.”

Castiel’s cool fingers guided her head up off the cabinet and turned her face toward him. He rested two fingers gently between her eyebrows, closing his eyes in concentration, the slight frown still wrinkling his forehead.

They stayed like that for several moments. It was an odd sensation, like cool water threading through her brain. The pain lessened enough that she was able to notice Castiel’s frown deepening the longer they stood there.

Finally he dropped his hand and opened his eyes. “You do not have an inoperable tumor,” he said, forehead still furrowed. “There is no injury or disease that is causing your headaches.”

“I’m sensing a _but_ here,” she said.

He grinned wryly, as if they had both heard the joke that Dean would interject if he were in the room. “I’m not entirely certain what’s causing your headaches, _but_ , once Sam and Dean return, I can consult with some other angels who might have an answer.”

“Not even going to guess?” she teased gently, pleased that they were becoming comfortable with each other again.

He shook his head. “No. I don’t wish to hazard your health on a ‘guess,’ especially with my failing Grace.”

“You did something, though, didn’t you?” she asked. “It’s more bearable now.”

He ducked his head, dropping his eyes to the floor. “I...you were in a lot of pain.”

She touched his cheek, waiting until he met her eyes. “Thanks, Castiel. Really. I wish you hadn’t used your Grace, when I know you can’t get it back, but thank you.”

He shrugged, flushing. “I just wish I could do more.”

 

“Pull over here,” Sam said, pointing to the side of the narrow two-lane road. Dean grumbled a bit but complied, finding a relatively flat place to pull off and parking Baby under the slight shade of some scrubby trees, shade that was deepening rapidly as the sun sank toward the horizon.

“We’ll have to hike the rest of the way,” Sam said, consulting the GPS app on his phone. “About half a mile up that hill.”

Dean stepped out of the car and flinched a little at the dry, late afternoon heat. Rummaging in the trunk, he fished out a couple of canteens and refilled them from a jug of water before tossing one to Sam. “All right, then,” he said, letting the trunk lid slam. “Let’s move out.”

Sam eyed him uncertainly. “You’re not taking anything else?”

Dean shrugged, heading up the hill. “I’ve got the demon-slaying knife, got an angel blade. If we couldn’t kill Abaddon with them, all they’ll do to Cain is piss him off. If he decides he wants to kill us, I’ll go down fighting, but realistically, nothing we’ve got can touch him.”

Sam fell into step beside him, eyebrow still quirked skeptically. “So basically, your plan is to go up there and say ‘Sorry, can’t kill you today, Crowley’s got the First Blade, why don’t you go get it from him?’”

“You’ve gotta admit, it’s not the worst plan we’ve ever had,” Dean said, grinning at his brother.

“And how many times have we died now? Each?” Sam’s tone was light but his eyes were serious. “I really wish we had a fallback.”

“Me, too,” Dean said, his eyes darkening. “But we don’t. This is the best hand we’ve got.”

Sam sighed. “Then I guess we’d better go play it out, huh?”

They hiked up through the trees, pausing when they came out into a clearer area to appreciate the view of the hills spread out before them. But they could both see the lone figure waiting for them on the ridge ahead. Sam slid slightly behind Dean as they approached, covering the right side, trusting Dean to watch the left.

“So this must be Sam,” Cain said once they were in earshot. His eyes flickered slightly as he watched them move toward him. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Dean refused to respond to that, opting instead to bring Cain’s attention back to him. “I’m here, but I don’t have the Blade, so I don’t know what good I’m going to do you.”

Cain tsked softly as they came to a stop out of easy reach. “I would say I’m disappointed, but it took me easily a millennium before the Blade and I really worked properly together. You’ve done remarkably well in the short time you had.”

Dean could feel his confusion reflected on his face.

Cain smiled, almost pityingly. “The Blade and the Mark are connected, Dean. You’ve already called it to you once.”

“Yeah, but that was like three fucking feet!” Dean said. “I have no idea where the hell it is. Crowley could’ve blasted it into outer space for all I know.”

“Nevertheless,” Cain said, refusing to be ruffled. “In order to keep your promise, you need the Blade. Call it.”

Dean huffed out a frustrated breath and glanced over at Sam. Sam moved up closer, until his left shoulder was touching Dean’s right, grounding him, and gave him the little nod that said I’m here, I’m watching your back, do what you’ve gotta do.

When Dean looked back at Cain, there was something raw in his eyes, something that reminded Dean that Cain had lost a brother. Something that reminded Dean of watching Sam drop to his knees with a knife in his back on that road in Montana, of seeing Sam take Michael and Lucifer down into the Pit, of Sam sitting, sunken-eyed and tortured on a bed in a mental institution, waiting for death. Something that reminded him of Sam doused in hellhound blood, fighting Bobby’s soul free from Hell, collapsing against him as angels Fell like moths to a flame called Earth. Lost in those memories, Dean understood the rage that created the Knights of Hell, felt its twin within him, and in that moment, the Mark burned to vicious life on his arm, and Dean could feel an answering burn, a tug, as it called to the Blade, and the Blade answered.

“Yes,” Cain said, as matter-of-factly as if Dean had used a knife or a gun. “There it is. Call it.”

Dean closed his eyes, even though a part of him felt stupid for doing it, and opened his hand. Remembering what it felt like when Abaddon had him pinned to the wall, the feeling of the Blade thumping into his palm, like a limb he’d lost and never felt before, a sudden wholeness. He reached for that burn, the rage inside him that resonated through the Mark, through the Blade, and suddenly his hand wasn’t empty anymore.

He kept his eyes closed for a minute, breathing deeply through the way the rage redoubled inside him, waiting until he was sure he wouldn’t lash out. The Blade and the Mark growled at the back of his head, wanting to rage and kill until there was nothing left, but Dean fought them back, clinging to his sanity and his control with ragged, bleeding fingernails until they relented and he opened his eyes.

Sam was watching him, the worried wrinkle between his eyebrows deeper than Dean had seen it in awhile, but his shoulder stayed warm and solid behind Dean’s, and he jerked his chin slightly towards Cain.

Cain sighed as he stared at the Blade in Dean’s hand, then looked up with a wry twist to his mouth. “I was going to say you have no idea how long I’ve waited for this, but I imagine you do.”

Dean had to clear his throat twice before he could speak. “Maybe a little bit.”

“My only regret is that I didn’t get to see Michael and Lucifer’s faces when you two dropped them in the Pit,” Cain mused. “I owe you for that. Maybe if I’m very, very lucky, I’ll get to take a look before I get where I’m going.”

“So Michael really was the one who gave you the Mark?” Sam blurted out.

Dean couldn’t be sure, but he thought Cain’s face softened a little when he looked at Sam. “Yes. He wanted to punish me for doing Lucifer’s bidding, even though neither he nor any of the rest of the angels bothered to lift a finger to keep my brother from listening to Lucifer’s lies.”

“He was a dick,” Dean said roughly, trying not to imagine the impossible choice Cain had made.

Cain smiled, almost in spite of himself. “That he was.” He took a deep breath, looked out across the hillsides, then looked back at Dean. “I’m ready.”

Dean took a deep breath and stepped forward, leaving Sam’s steady warmth behind. Cain surprised him by reaching out to lay a hand gently on his shoulder. He looked up and met the other man’s eyes.

“Thank you,” Cain said simply.

Dean nodded, and kept his promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah. That happened. 
> 
> My personal headcanon is that Cain and Abel were soulmates in the same way that Sam and Dean are, and that Cain has spent the last millenium or so attempting to atone for his wrongs in order to try to join his brother in heaven. 
> 
> I was pretty nervous about writing a Dean POV, hope it turned out okay.


	18. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean fights the Mark, and the boys return to the bunker.

"Dean? Dean, give me the Blade, okay? Just open your hand, let me have it. I'm here, man. Just let it go."

Slowly the sound in Dean's ears became a voice ( _Sam_ ), the sounds the voice made slowly taking on meaning ( _“Drop it, Dean, let it go”_ ), and the exulting rage echoing inside him looked through his eyes and saw the man standing in front of him, saw its target.

_ Him kill him kill him kill them all of them kill him kill him need to kill kill him now gut him stab him slice his throat rip him open cut him kill him kill-- _

It was the shock of his rejection, the “No!” ripping out of his throat, that loosened his fingers on the Blade, let it fall to the ground, sent him scrambling back out of arm's reach, shuddering at the picture of Sam, torn and broken and bloody on the ground, that painted itself behind his eyelids.

Sam gathered up the blade and wrapped it in his overshirt, watching cautiously as Dean shuddered, fighting back the Mark, the burning need to kill and rend and destroy.

Deep inside, in the darkness where everything he hated about himself lived, all the weaknesses and fears and lies, Dean knew that if anyone other than Sam had been standing there, he might not have been able to stop, might never have stopped until he bathed the whole world in blood. But ever since that first night of blood and fire and death, _protect Sam_ has been his true north, the one fixed point that his world revolves around. Demons and archangels and the fucking Horsemen of the fucking Apocalypse haven’t been able to sway him from that one simple truth, and he will be damned (okay, he probably will anyway. Again) if a couple of inanimate objects and some magic can manage it.

When he could see again, see Sam standing there whole and alive and real, he took a swallow from his canteen to ease a throat as raw as if he’d been screaming his denials to the open sky. The sun had almost dropped completely below the low hills to the west, the short, scrubby trees casting long shadows across the ridge.

“Let’s get back to the car while we can still see where we’re going,” he said, the words scraping roughly out of him.

Sam just nodded, the worried frown still wrinkling his forehead, and fell into step behind Dean, a warm, solid presence at his back.

Down the hill, into the car, down the highway toward home, and Dean closed his eyes in the passenger seat and pretended he didn’t still feel the Mark, in his blood, in his bones, behind his eyes.

_ \--kill kill kill him kill him stab slash cut him hurt him kill him bathe in his blood kill them all of them and burn the world down-- _

  
Claire jerked awake as the light turned on, startling her out of sleep.

"Sorry, sweetheart," Dean said, turning the light back off. "She's in here, Sammy," he called down the hall before coming inside, moving through the room by the light from the open door and dropping heavily onto the side of the bed. "Cas said you went to bed early, but we got a little worried when you weren't in your room."

"Sorry," she said sheepishly, rubbing her eyes "Hard to sleep by myself. Works a little better in your bed."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Not Sam's?"

"Your mattress is nicer."

"Fair enough," he allowed, pulling off his boots and shirt before falling back onto the pillow.

Now that she was more awake, she could hear the way his voice was slurring. _He must be exhausted_. "I wasn't expecting you guys back tonight," she said, sliding over to cuddle against his side.

He sighed, pulling her closer. "Took turns sleeping, drove straight through. Wanted to be home."

"You okay?" she asked softly as Sam came in and closed the door behind him.

Dean shrugged. "Who the fuck knows? As okay as I ever am, I guess."

She wrapped her arm around his waist, pressing her cheek to his chest. "Okay. Sleep now?"

Sam pulled his boots and clothes off and slipped under the covers behind her, warm and solid and safe, she was surrounded by their warmth, and she felt the last crushing fear lift off her chest, letting her draw what felt like her first full breath since they walked out of the bunker door.

"Sleep," Dean agreed, voice thick with fatigue.

"Sleep," Sam said, his kiss on her hair the last thing she remembered before sleep pulled her under again.

 

Dean kissed her awake, slow and sweet, his hands framing her face, his mouth moving over hers almost reverently as they lay facing each other.

"Good morning," he murmured when he pulled back, thumb stroking over her cheekbone.

"Good morning," she answered softly.

He smiled and kissed her again, rolling her to her back and bracing himself above her. He kissed her tenderly, despite the way his cock pressed urgently into her. He kissed her like they had all the time in the world, like nothing could be more important than his mouth on hers, lips and tongues sliding gently together.

“Need you,” he breathed in her ear, kissing a slow, teasing path down her neck and across her shoulder. “Can I?”

She let her hips roll up under him, feeling the rough denim of his jeans scrape against the soft cotton of her underwear. “Yes. Whatever you need. Whatever you want.”

He came back to her mouth for another long, sumptuous kiss, tasting her lips until she was wriggling impatiently underneath him. When he finally lifted his head, he smiled lazily and slid down, trailing light kisses down her chest and over the swell of her breasts. He circled her breasts with kisses and nibbles and licks, never enough pressure or enough stimulation, his weight keeping her firmly pinned to the bed. When he finally closed his mouth gently over her nipple, she closed her eyes, breath sobbing out in relief.

He tormented her gently for what seemed like hours, hands and mouth skimming over her body as he moved slowly, inexorably down. She came, gasping out his name, when he first closed his mouth over her clit, and she felt Sam stir sleepily beside her.

Dean lifted his head long enough to smile at her, saying “How about a hand here, Sammy?” and Sam’s hands skimmed over her, touching and teasing, leaving her shuddering while Dean slid one finger, then two into her pussy, matching the slow, languid rhythm of his tongue on her clit. They built her up again together, Sam falling into flawless sync with his brother, until she was shaking under them, begging “please, please, please” into Sam’s mouth, hips arching helplessly off the bed as she came, their hands and lips on her skin grounding her even as she fell apart.

She couldn’t hear what Dean said over the roaring in her ears, or maybe they just had another of those silent, incredibly Winchester conversations, but gentle hands pulled her back against Sam’s chest, arranged a pillow under her hips, a condom packet ripped, and then Dean was sliding into her, slow, teasing thrusts as he leaned in to kiss her, one hand braced on Sam’s shoulder, the other one on hers, touching them both, connected to them both.

“Need you,” he breathed, sweat sheening his skin as he started to move faster. She slid her hands up his arms, trying to reassure him with her touch, and he hissed as her thumb slid over the Mark. Never breaking eye contact, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to the Mark, not stopping even when she felt it, unnaturally hot and angry, throbbing under her lips. He flinched and tried to pull away, but she held him.

“Whatever you have to do, Dean,” she said, never dropping her gaze, terrified that she was saying the wrong thing, but unable to stop. “Just come back to me. You’re mine. It can’t have you.”

Dean’s eyes flicked up to meet Sam’s over her head, and she felt Sam nodding before he pressed a kiss to her neck.

“Ours,” Sam murmured in her ear, holding her steady.

“Ours,” Dean growled, pushing impossibly deep inside her as he came.

“Yours,” she agreed, closing her eyes to keep the tears that threatened from falling. “I’m yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this has been a productive holiday break! I really appreciate all the supportive comments and everyone who's been reading! I have to go back to work tomorrow, but I feel like the story is picking up momentum. I'm shooting for at least two updates per week; we'll see how it goes.


	19. Lightning Crashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date night! Pretty much fluff, no plot or smut in this chapter

"I'm taking you two out on a date tomorrow night," Claire announced as she pushed back from the table after breakfast. "Be ready to leave by five."

She loaded her dishes in the dishwasher, pretending she didn't notice the silent conversation happening behind her.

"Where're we going?" Dean asked easily, but his shoulders were tense. "Do I have to wear the Fed suit?"

"Dinner first, then a concert," she said, turning around. "Your normal clothes are fine."

"Who's playing?" Sam asked, bringing his plate to the dishwasher.

She grinned up at him. "Collective Soul and Live."

"Nice," he said appreciatively at almost the same time that Dean grumbled, "Never heard of them."

She laughed and crossed back to the table to give Dean a kiss. "I almost guarantee you've heard some of their music. You'll like it if you give it a chance."

"Fine," he groused, one corner of his mouth tipping up. "As long as I don't have to get dressed up."

Dean whistled when she walked into the library and Claire smiled and put a little extra sway into her walk, feeling the soft blue cotton of her dress swish around her legs. "I'm starting to think I should've worn the suit," he said, his eyes hot and appreciative as he tugged her in for a kiss. "Never seen you in a dress before."

She shrugged. "I'd rather wear jeans most of the time, but this one has pockets. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a skirt or a dress with pockets?"

"I can honestly say I don't," he said, lips quirking in amusement.

Next to him, Sam was grinning, too. "You look great," he said sincerely. "Sure you don't want us to go change?"

She leaned back to take a look at their clothes and allowed herself a moment to appreciate the view--Dean's dark gray henley just the tiniest bit snug across his back and shoulders, Sam's plaid button-down with sleeves rolled up around his forearms, the slightly worn denim of their jeans, loose enough to move comfortably, but tight enough to hint at the muscle underneath. "Nope. I want to go out with Sam and Dean, not their FBI agent alter egos. Not that you two don't look damn good in your suits, but that's not you."

This time it was Sam who pulled her in for a kiss. "And we want to go out with you."

Dean cleared his throat, but the warmth in his eyes was still there."Just don't expect us to put out on the first date."

Claire snorted and slipped her wallet and phone into her pockets before heading toward the garage. "A, you already did. And B, by my math, this is our fifth date. Don't worry, though, I'll still respect you in the morning."

"Fifth?" Sam asked curiously, holding the door for her. "How do you figure?"

She ran an appreciative hand over the freshly washed and waxed Impala before Sam opened the door and she slid into the middle of the front seat. Once Sam and Dean had joined her, she started ticking things off on her fingers. "First date was the night you guys picked me up, second date was breakfast the next day. Third was when you took me out to lunch after I figured out who you were. Fourth was when I cooked you dinner. So this is the fifth."

"Huh," Dean said, pulling out of the garage and making sure the entrance closed behind them. "How about that."

Claire smiled and pulled a cassette tape out of her pocket. "Little preview of tonight's concert?"

Dean grumbled under his breath but nodded. She popped the tape in and settled back in the seat, singing along to "She Said" under her breath. Dean's leg was pressed against hers on one side, Sam's arm was around her shoulders, and she tried to imprint every detail onto her memory--the smell of the leather upholstery, Dean's head nodding unconsciously along to the music, Sam's hand rubbing little circles onto her upper arm, the slight buzz of static in the cassette replay.

The guitar riff at the beginning of  "Why, Pt. 2" rang out from the stereo and Dean's grin widened. Claire bumped her shoulder lightly into his. "Told you you'd like it."

They managed to score a corner booth at the restaurant, since it wasn't very busy, and both men waited for for Claire to slide in before bracketing her on either side. The ridiculously perky waitress managed to brush her hand up against both Sam and Dean's hands while handing them their menus. "Hi, my name is Mandy," she chirped. "What can I get you folks to drink?"

Sam and Dean each ordered a beer Claire flipped through the drink menu before requesting a mudslide.

Dean snorted.

Claire raised her eyebrows at him. "Something you want to share with the class?"

"That's a chick drink, sweetheart," he replied, eyes dancing in anticipation.

She smiled sweetly back at him, not missing the way Mandy the waitress deflated just a tiny bit at the endearment as she left with their drink orders. "Last time I checked, babe, I was a chick. Pretty sure you wouldn't like it if that changed." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sam grin, but she kept her eyes firmly on Dean.

"There's definitely some things I'd miss," he conceded. "But that's still a chick drink."

She shrugged. "I don't like beer. It tastes like ass. If I'm gonna drink, I want something that tastes good."

Before they can pursue the conversation any further, Mandy was back with the beers. She kept her smile professional when she aimed it toward Dean, but let her fingers brush against Sam's a little longer than strictly necessary. "Your mudslide will be out in a minute, as soon as the bartender's done with it," she told Claire, but her eyes flicked back to Sam almost immediately. "Are you guys ready to order, or should I give you a few minutes?"

They placed their order, although Sam gave Claire a slightly betrayed look when she followed Dean's lead and ordered a burger and fries. He hesitated for a minute over his order until she leaned over and kissed him lightly. "You've had actual vegetables every day for the past week or so," she reminded him, trying (and failing) not to feel a slightly petty sense of satisfaction at the confusion on the waitress's face. "Something less than optimally healthy isn't going to kill you."

He shrugged his agreement and closed his menu. "Make it three," he said, handing the menu over and politely pretending not to notice the way Mandy's eyes were flicking back and forth between the three of them.

"Hey," Dean complained once the waitress was out of earshot. "How come I don't get a 'hands off, bitch, he's mine' kiss?"

Claire leaned in to give him a quick peck, but he held her in place with a hand around the back of her neck, tasting her mouth with lazy concentration. "Happy now?" she asked, pulling back just as her drink arrived.

 

After dinner, Claire excused herself for a minute to go to the bathroom. She was washing her hands at the sink when the door opened and Mandy the waitress came in. She hesitated for a minute before stopping at the counter and checking her makeup in the mirror, opening her mouth and starting to say something, then closing it again. **  
**

After the third time it happened, Claire took pity on her. "Did you want to ask me something?"

The other woman flushed. "I, uh...are you dating those guys?"

"Yeah," Claire answered evenly.

Mandy's eyes widened and her voice squeaked a little when she said "Both of them?"

Claire grinned, just a little smugly. "Both of them."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

Mandy looked a little abashed. "Uh, I'm sorry about flirting. I didn't realize..."

"It's cool," Claire said. "You had no way of knowing."

"Still." Mandy grinned a little. "I feel like I should high-five you or something."

Claire smiled back as she left the bathroom. She was still smiling when she met Sam and Dean just inside the door.

"Everything okay?" Sam asked, eyeing her.

"It's all good," she answered. "Let's head out."

****  
Claire shivered as the last notes of Live's minor-key rendition of "I Walk The Line" vibrated through the air. Wisps of cigarette smoke snaked in through the entrance door behind them and scraped at her throat, already hoarse from cheering and singing along, and her feet ached from standing on the concrete floor, but Dean's arm was warm around her waist and his eyes and mouth were smiling, his body more relaxed than she'd ever seen it except for right after sex. **  
**

Sam's arm was around her shoulders, his body angled slightly behind hers to keep her from being jostled by the crowd. He was looking at Dean, too, and when she caught his eye, he gave her a slight nod and a conspiratorial smile that she knew spelled out _Good job_.

The quiet, pensive notes of "Lightning Crashes" sang out through the small, industrial-looking space. Claire closed her eyes and let the music wash over her.

On the next-to-last chorus the musical instruments fell away and the room echoed with 300 voices, raising goosebumps on her arms, vibrating inside her chest with the sheer volume, like an electric connection to each person in the room.

_Oh, now feel it_  
 _Comin’ back again_  
 _Like a rollin’ thunder chasing the wind_  
 _Forces pullin’ from the center of the earth again  
_ _I can feel it..._

Dean pulled her into his arms just inside the bunker door. "I had a good time tonight," he said, kissing her lightly. "Thanks."

She smiled up at him. "Anytime."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want to have the typical "waitress hits on guys like girl isn't there, guys reassure girl that they really are attracted to her" scene. I hope what I did instead works. My abject apologies if I offend anyone who's poly; I am not, so far as I know, so I'm kind of feeling my way into the relationship in this fic.


	20. Have to Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doctors don't know what's causing Claire's headaches. And then things get worse.
> 
> Spoilery trigger warning in the [endnotes](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2471600/chapters/6808244/preview#chapter_20_endnotes)

"Hello?" Claire answered the phone. "Yes, this is she. Yes. Okay. I see. Sure, give me that number."

Sam eyed her across the library table as she ended the call. "What's up?"

She sighed, rubbing her forehead and leaning back in her chair. "The doctor has no idea what's causing my headaches. There's no physical or neurological reason that they can see for them. Just like Cas said."

"What was the number for?" he asked.

"Some brain specialist they want me to go see," she said dismissively.

He raised his eyebrows. "I notice you didn't write the number down."

"What for?" she retorted. "So I can rack up hundreds of thousands of dollars in bills for him to tell us there's nothing causing them? Cas already told me there's 'no injury or disease' that's causing the headaches. This is just a thing that sometimes happens to people. Nothing we can do about it."

"You're not..." Sam trailed off, then tried again. "Have you been having...weird dreams?"

Claire cocked her head to the side. "Like what?"

"Like, very realistic, detailed? Almost like you're seeing something that's actually happening?"

"Nooo, I haven't," she said slowly. "Any particular reason why you're asking?"

He looked down at the table. "Back when I was at Stanford, I started having visions, dreaming the future. I didn't realize that's what was happening until they started to come true. But I had headaches, too."

"So, do you still have visions then?" she asked curiously.

"No!" He snapped the denial, softening his tone when she flinched away. "No, I...no, that's gone, now. I don't use that anymore."

"Okay," she said gently, moving out of her chair to hug him.

Sam pulled Claire into his lap, smiling slightly as she rested her head on his shoulder. "Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to yell at you. It's...that was...a really bad time."

"You don't have to tell me," she said softly.

"Someday," he said, his voice so quiet she almost couldn't hear it. "Someday. I want to tell you. Just...not today."

 

Claire turned off the shower and dried off, wrapping the towel around herself before brushing her teeth at the sinks. _Wish the Men of Letters had heard of privacy, but at least the water pressure's good._

She was halfway down the hall to her room when she needed to go. Part of her mind, the part that questioned and snarked and had second thoughts (and third and fourth thoughts), said  _Go where? You're wrapped in a towel. What are you doing?_

The rest of her mind and her body weren't listening. She was almost through the library and into the war room when Dean saw her, his appreciative gaze taking in the fact that she was only wearing a towel. It only took a few seconds for his eyes to sharpen as he realized something was wrong and catch her arm as she went past.

"What's the rush, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice low and calm.

"I have to go," she heard herself say, and it was true. She had to go. She needed...she wasn't sure what she needed, but she had to go get it. "I have to go," she repeated.

"Okay," he said easily. "But you're not gonna get far without shoes. Why don't we go to your room and get you dressed, and you can tell me where we're going."

"I don't know where it is," she said plaintively, allowing herself to be led back to her room. "But I have to find it. It's broken. It needs me."

Dean nodded as though this made perfect sense and guided her to sit on the side of the bed. "If I let go, are you gonna sit there while I find you some clothes?"

"I'll...I'll try," she said honestly. "But we have to hurry."

"Okay," he said soothingly, releasing her arm slowly, poised to block any movement toward the door. They eyed each other warily, but Claire managed to stay on the bed, although her foot started shaking with the need to go.

Dean turned and started rummaging in her dresser, still keeping one eye on her and staying between her and the door. He tossed a bra and underwear onto the bed. "Put those on while I find you some clothes, okay?"

She nodded and started dressing ( _Usually he's trying to get my clothes_ off _, not on_ , the inner voice snarked), adjusting the fit of the bra automatically as Dean carried a blue t-shirt and jeans back to her.

"Give me your hand, sweetheart," he said as Claire buttoned and zipped her jeans, and she did so automatically, then stared blankly as he fastened a cuff around her wrist and attached it to the headboard.

"But...I need to go," she said.

He took advantage of her momentary confusion to move her until her back was resting against the headboard and secure her other wrist. "Sorry, Claire, but you're not yourself. I don't know what's going on. I don't know how something got through the warding on the bunker to get to you, but I'm keeping you safe here until we figure this out."

She jerked against the cuffs, testing them, but Dean hadn't fastened her wrists together like he usually did, where even worst-case scenario, if something happened, she could get herself out. Her hands were cuffed to opposite sides of the headboard. "I have to go!" she yelled, jerking again. "I have to find it!"

"Jesus," he swore, rubbing a hand over his face. "Maybe we  _are_ cursed."

Dean hauled himself up off of the bed and stepped out into the hall. "Sam!" he yelled. "Get your ass down here."

 

Sam and Dean stood in the hall, their low voices floating in through the open door, but Claire couldn't hear what they were saying. She tried to stop herself from pulling against the cuffs, but felt herself starting again as soon as her focus lapsed. Why didn't they understand? She _had_ to go!

A phone rang in the hallway, breaking through the conversation. "Hello?" Dean answered. "Cas, man, we need some help. I know you said there wasn't anything wrong with Claire, but she's lost it. She tried to walk out of the bunker in a fucking  _towel_ !"

Sam said something, too quietly for her to understand the words.

"Yeah, about an hour ago," Dean said. "You are? How long?...Okay, yeah. Hurry, man."

Dean slipped his phone back into his pocket. "Cas is about ten minutes out. He said he thinks he knows what's up, and he can help."

Sam's shoulders slumped. "Good. That's...that's good."

"Yeah," Dean agreed pensively. "I just wish he'd told me before he hung up."

"We're probably not gonna like it," Sam said.

Dean's mouth twisted into something like his normal smirk, and he shrugged. "Do we ever? Whatever it is, we'll deal."

 

Claire's head snapped up from where she was dozing. It was here. She could feel it so much more clearly now. Almost like she could reach out and touch it...

Castiel opened the door and came in, carrying something wrapped in leather, Sam and Dean following closely behind him.

"Cas!" she said. She meant to ask what was going on, what was wrong with her, but what came out was "Do you have it?"

The furrows in his forehead deepened. "Yes, I have it," he said gently, setting the bundle on her lap. She felt her whole body relax, the pull, the need to _go_ finally dissipating.

"Give me a minute and I'll have you out of these," Castiel murmured, unbuckling the cuff on her left wrist.

"Cas--" Dean started to say.

Castiel never stopped, freeing her hand and rubbing gently at the marks on her wrist from when she'd jerked against the cuffs. "It's fine, Dean. She has what she needs. She's not going anywhere, are you, Claire?"

Claire nodded, her free hand coming down to stroke the leather as Cas leaned across her body to free her other wrist. "It's here. I don't have to go anymore."

"Care to explain what _it_ is?" Sam asked, a dangerous edge in his voice.

Before Castiel could answer, Claire untied the leather thong holding the bundle closed and unwrapped it. Sam and Dean sucked in identical breaths at the sight of the broken clay tablet within.

She picked it up and gently fitted the pieces together, staring in amazement at the light that flashed out from it, and the tablet was whole in her hands.

"What--" Dean stopped and cleared his throat. "What does it say?" he asked quietly.

Claire traced her fingers over the letters. "It says 'angel.'"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Claire is very clearly not in her right mind, so Dean restrains her against her will for her own safety. 
> 
> Okay, so you guys, being incredibly clever, probably figured out where this was going way ahead of time. But stuff is happening. Yay!
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos and comments; each and every one makes my day just a little brighter.


	21. Knowledge is Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why is Claire a prophet? Also, Dean likes being tied up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one runs a bit long; I think I had a smut backlog I had to get rid of. I've updated the tags a bit. Check the endnotes for more.

"I'm a prophet?" Claire asked, staring at Castiel in disbelief.

"Wait," Sam said from where he was leaning against the wall. "I thought angels knew the names of all of the prophets. You never said anything about Claire being one."

"Yeah," Dean chimed in. "Didn't Crowley kidnap all the potential prophets that one time? Since he couldn't get Kevin to work for him? Claire wasn't one of them."

Castiel sighed. "I'm afraid this is yet another sin to lay at Metatron's door. He had Kevin killed and used the knowledge from the angel tablet to prevent further prophets from being called. We have some evidence that he had the remaining potential prophets killed as well."

"So what am I, then?" Claire said.

Castiel shrugged slightly. "I've been questioning Metatron's followers; that's why it took me so long to get back here. The ones closest to him said that he wanted prophets under his control, we assume it was to further his delusion of being God. He sent angels to groom them, teach them, and make them into potential prophets, waiting for his activation."

"Jophiel," Claire spat the name, eyes widening. "So he didn't just pick Jake at random."

"I'm afraid not," Castiel said, his blue eyes more sorrowful than usual. "It appears that he was there for you."

"But the angels couldn't take it all the way," Dean said, sitting down on the bed and sliding an arm around Claire’s shoulders. "So why now? What happened?"

Castiel sighed. "I spoke to Hannah. It seems that in the attempts to restore Heaven, whatever Metatron did to keep prophets from being activated was reversed. Claire just happened to be the one who was activated. We have no idea how many others are out there."

"So the headaches?"  Claire asked.

"Your brain has been changed, on a subatomic level," Castiel said gently. "New neurological connections were made that enable you to comprehend the tablets. It is, I imagine, a bit of an adjustment."

"You might say that,” she muttered.

Silence fell heavily on the room. Claire found her fingers tracing the letters on the tablet of their own accord. It was...comforting. Like petting a cat or a dog.

“So what now?” Dean asked finally. “Is anybody going to be coming after the tablet?”

Castiel shook his head. “No. In fact, if you wanted, I imagine the angels would be willing to release the other two tablets to Claire as well.”

Dean looked skeptical, but Sam nodded slowly. “They’ve already given us the angel tablet. It’s not like it’s dangerous to them for us to have the demon and leviathan tablets as well. For all they know, we’ll go through the trials again and succeed, this time.”

“Essentially what I was thinking,” Castiel agreed.

“So I just spend the rest of my life translating these things?” Claire asked.

“If that’s what you want,” Sam said gently. “If you’d rather, we can just put the tablets away; we’ve got some safe places to store them that should be proof against just about anything.”

She pulled the tablet a bit closer, smiling humorlessly as she realized what she’d done. “I don’t think that’s really an option. I don’t feel the need to go find it anymore, but I need to translate it. It’s like an itch at the back of my head.”

“Okay,” Dean said softly, his arm tightening around her. “But it’s up to you. If you want, we can smash that thing to bits and throw it in the ocean.”

“No,” she said decidedly. “Even if the thought of destroying something like this didn’t make me sick to my stomach, knowledge is power. There might be something on here that can help us get Cas’s Grace back. Or something that can give you two an edge if you have any more run-ins with angels. Hell, maybe there’s another archangel out there that we can get to remove the Mark.”

Castiel’s eyebrows shot up. “Remove the Mark?”

Dean cleared his throat. “Claire found a ritual that might work. But we’d have to find an archangel that could possess Sam, and they’re a little thin on the ground these days.”

Castiel frowned. “Michael, Lucifer, Gabriel, and Raphael are the only archangels I am aware of,” he said slowly. “Of course, Heaven has many secrets it doesn’t share,” he added bitterly.

“Either way, translating the angel tablet is important,” Claire said firmly. “I should get started.”

“You haven’t eaten all day,” Sam protested. “No translating on an empty stomach.”

She started to protest, but her stomach chose that moment to growl menacingly. “Fine,” she said, caving to the inevitable. “Can we have bacon?”

Dean took the hand that wasn’t holding the tablet and tugged her up off the bed. “That’s my girl.”

 

“Claire.”

Claire didn’t look up from her computer screen until Sam folded the laptop closed. She growled at him, but he only shook his head and pulled the computer back out of her reach.

“Nope,” he said. “You don’t get this back until you’ve had at least 8 hours of sleep.”

She briefly considered trying to get it back, but Sam had a good foot of height and a ridiculous reach on her. The only thing she’d accomplish would be to embarrass herself.

“Fine,” she muttered ungraciously, shoving back from the table. “I’m not gonna be able to go to sleep, though.”

She could hear the rattling behind her as Sam stowed her computer away somewhere while she headed down the hall toward the bedrooms. He caught up quickly, though, his long legs eating up the distance until they were walking side by side, his hand settling warmly onto the small of her back.

“Oh, I think we can help with that,” he murmured, steering her into Dean’s room. “Sleep is important. You need your rest.”

And she pulled in a breath to snark back at him, but then let it out in a huff because there was Dean, stark naked, stretched out on the bed with his hands cuffed above him (and where the hell were those cuffs attached, the practical part of her brain wondered). He gave her his usual cocky smirk, but there was an uncertain edge to it. His cock was already hard, standing up from his body, and he looked almost pained.

“How long?” she asked softly, kneeling on the edge of the bed.

“Not long,” Sam answered, closing the door and coming up behind her. “Just enough time for him to start thinking about what you might want to do to him while he’s like this.”

Dean closed his eyes and shuddered for a moment. “Sammy, I swear to God--”

Claire leaned over and kissed him, hesitantly at first, but he didn’t try to take over the kiss for a change, letting her set the pace. She grew bolder, catching his bottom lip lightly between her teeth, scraping gently until he groaned into her mouth before she licked inside, savoring the familiar taste of whiskey and Dean.

Sam’s hands urged her back gently long enough to pull her t-shirt over her head. She went back to kissing Dean, letting Sam peel her out of bra, jeans, and underwear. When she was completely naked she crawled up, straddling Dean’s stomach, licking her way down his neck and sinking her teeth into the muscle where his neck met his shoulder, smiling against his skin as he arched and shuddered beneath her.

The bed shifted as Sam sat down, stroking a hand down her back. “That’s it,” he murmured. “You can do whatever you want.”

She released Dean’s neck, sliding down slightly until she could lick a circle around the outer edge of his tattoo, tracing the lines with her tongue until he rasped out “Please,” his hips thrusting up, his cock just barely grazing the skin of her ass, but he moaned at the friction.

She sat up, pressing back more firmly against his cock, and smiled wickedly. “Please what?” she prompted, letting her hips rock against him.

“Fuck,” he growled, thrusting up against her again. “Please fuck me.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” she teased, wriggling back, dragging the wet softness of her pussy across his dick, feeling his hardness spread her apart.

“You sure?” Sam asked softly, one big hand squeezing the back of her neck, and she paused, stroking Dean’s cock absently. “We can keep using condoms. We’re used to it.”

She smiled. “Just as sure as I was the last time we talked about it. And the time before that. The tests all came back clean and my birth control is good. I want this.”

He searched her eyes for a long moment, but whatever he saw there must have reassured him. “Okay,” he murmured, sitting back.

She rose up over Dean, sliding herself down his cock in one long, slow, slick glide, letting her eyes close as she savored the sensation with no barriers between them. He shuddered underneath her once, then again as she shifted her weight from side to side, taking him as deep inside as she possibly could.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he swore, eyes fluttering shut, head arching back on the pillow. “Jesus _fuck_ that feels so good.”

She lifted up slowly, then slid back down even slower, shivering at the feel of his cock inside her. She kept the slow, torturous pace for as long as she could stand it, not sure if she was doing it to torment Dean or herself, but then Sam was kneeling behind her, the muscled plane of his chest pressed warm against her back, the hard, thick line of his cock nudging against her ass, and he reached around her and cupped her breasts in his big hands, thumbs brushing lightly over her nipples.

Claire whimpered and started moving faster, taking Dean fully inside her pussy on each downstroke, and Sam rewarded her by scraping his nails lightly over her nipples before rolling them between fingers and thumbs.

“That’s it, baby,” he purred into her ear. “You’re driving him crazy. Look at him.”

She forced her eyes open, vaguely wondering when she’d shut them, but dismissing the question as unimportant. Dean’s eyes were glued to her face and the muscles in his arms flexed as he strained against the cuffs.

“You want your hands free, Dean?” she asked, a little shocked at the low, raspy tone of her voice.

“Yes,” he gritted out, a muscle jumping in his jaw as Sam squeezed her nipples, just a little, and she moaned and arched back against Sam, reaching back and wrapping her arms around his neck to give him better access.

She had to swallow a couple of times before continuing. “What would you do if you had your hands free, Dean?” she challenged him, rolling her hips a little faster. “I’m already fucking you; what else do you want?”

He narrowed his eyes, then smiled wickedly, licking his lips. “I’d get my hands and my mouth on those pretty tits of yours, sweetheart,” he drawled, thrusting up into her, just a little, and smiling as she moaned. “Know you love it, you get so wet when we do it. Practically dripping just from us licking and sucking and biting. Maybe one day Sammy and I should have a contest, see who can get you off fastest just by playing with your tits.”

Sam groaned behind her, dipping his head to nibble on her neck, his clever fingers still busy on her breasts, and Claire picked up the pace, feeling her orgasm just out of reach.

“There you go, sweetheart,” Dean purred, thrusting up harder at the perfect time so her clit rubbed against him with every stroke. “Ride me. Wanna see you come for me, wanna hear you. You like this position, don’t you? Talk to me, tell me. Use the dirty words, since I can’t touch you.”

“Oh, fuck,” she moaned, letting her head fall back against Sam. “Feels so good, Dean, I feel every inch of your cock. Makes me so wet, feeling your huge, thick cock inside my pussy.”

Sam and Dean groaned simultaneously, Sam’s cock twitching against her ass and his hands tightening on her breasts. Dean matched her speed, his face twisting like he was in pain. “Shit, Sammy, you gonna make her come? I’m not gonna last long here.”

“Whatever you say,” Sam said mockingly. Dean thrust up into her, hard, pressing against her clit at the perfect angle, Sam squeezed her nipples firmly and bit down lightly on her neck and she was gone, writhing desperately between them as the sensation became too much to handle.

Sam eased her down until she was draped across Dean’s chest, and just as she realized that Dean hadn’t come yet she felt Sam’s fingers teasing across her ass, pressing lightly inside.

“Relax,” Sam murmured, his other hand stroking gently up and down her back as he pressed one finger slowly inside. “Gonna get you used to being filled up like this.”

Dean captured her mouth in a kiss, distracting her as he started slowly thrusting up into her again. “Gonna feel so good, sweetheart, both of us fucking you at the same time,” he breathed against her mouth as Sam eased a second finger in, stretching and twisting, and it felt strange, but he was right, it did feel good, and she was surprised to realize that she was more than halfway to coming again.

Sam slid his fingers out and she whimpered a little bit before she could stop herself. He chuckled darkly behind her, one big hand warm and firm on the small of her back. “Don’t worry, baby,” he said, and she felt the plug pressing gently but firmly against her ass, the tip just sliding in. “I’m gonna fuck you with this plug until you come. It’s almost as big as I am, and you’re gonna take it for me, aren’t you?”

Claire nodded against Dean’s chest, eyes shut.

“Good girl,” Sam said, pressing the plug in and out in small increments, going infinitesimally deeper with each thrust, matching Dean’s pace.

Dean bucked up underneath her. “Shit, Sammy, I can feel that.”

Sam leaned over so he could murmur in her ear, never stopping the inexorable rhythm. “Dean likes to think he’s straight as an arrow,” he confided, supposedly talking to Claire. “But when we’re both fucking you, there’s not going to be much between us. I’m gonna be able to feel his cock rubbing against mine while I’m inside you, and so will he.” Sam dropped his voice even further as Dean closed his eyes. “And he fucking loves it.”

Dean shuddered and thrust up inside of her, his rhythm becoming a stutter as he came, and Claire found herself coming as well, the combination of Dean’s deep, erratic thrusts and Sam seating the butt plug firmly inside her sending her over the edge.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, that last bit was a little more Wincesty than I had planned on, but honestly, if they're comfortable enough with each other to share a woman...*helpless shrug* 
> 
> As always, I appreciate the hell out of the comments and kudos. This bit where we figure out how Claire became a prophet...does it make sense? It did in my head, but many things make sense in my head and not outside of it.
> 
> For those who don't remember Jophiel (it's been a lot of chapters, I had to backtrack to make sure I wasn't jossing myself), you can get that information in Chapter 5!


	22. Like Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is hovering, and it's driving Claire crazy.

“Maybe you should take a break,” Sam said from across the library table.

Claire shot him an unamused look. “I’ve only been working on this for an hour, Sam.”

“Yeah, okay,” he mumbled, dropping his eyes to his own computer.

 

“Do you want something to drink?” he asked ten minutes later.

Claire silently counted to twenty. “No, thanks, I’m good.”

“You sure?” he persisted.

“I’m sure,” she said, trying valiantly not to clench her teeth, and mostly succeeding.

 

“I’m hungry. Are you hungry? What do you want for lunch?” Sam asked _five_ minutes later (yes she was keeping track, because he was being weird. Even Dean was side-eyeing him from across the library).

Claire closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead (seriously, what the hell?).

“Do you have a headache? Want me to get your meds? Maybe you should lie down for a little while--”

“The only headache I have right now is you,” she snapped, finally losing control of her temper. “Goddamnit, Sam, just because you’re fucking me doesn’t mean you have to wrap me in bubble wrap and baby me. I’m a grown woman who’s been taking care of herself for quite a few years now. I’m not going to break!”

Sam flinched, and she felt a little guilty, but this shit seriously had to stop. He’d been ridiculously solicitous ever since Castiel dropped his little bombshell and it was driving her up the wall.

Claire clicked her computer shut and shoved back from the table. Sam opened his mouth, probably to ask where she was going, took a good look at her face, and closed it again.

“I’m going to go work out,” she tossed over her shoulder as she left the library. “Don’t wait up.”

 

Claire settled the bar on her shoulders and stood up, lifting it off the rack. A few steps back, breathe in once, then again, hold the breath, drop down. Knees out, chest up, control it on the way down, use the reflex, explode out of the hole, push up, up, up, done!

She stepped forward and let the bar drop onto the rack, then took several drinks from her water bottle before unloading the bar, moving it to the floor, and loading the weight for her first deadlift warmup set.

She quickly fell into an almost zen state of mind. Nothing existed except her and the bar, with its ever-increasing weight. Set up, lift the bar, set it down, add weight. Set up, lift the bar, set it down, add weight.

Pause to check the math, move on to the working sets. Feel the burning in the legs, the effort it takes to hold the bar, to stand fully upright. Feet under the bar, shins just touching. Squat down, wrap the hands around the bar, test the grip. Push the hips back, feel the hamstrings load. Shoulders back, back and abs tight. Breathe deeply, and again, and again. Breathe in and hold it, stand up. Hold on to the bar, push the heels into the floor, stand up. Up up up don’t let go of the bar, hold on, hold it, hold it there, let them see...drop it.

The bar fell to the floor, weight plates clanking. “Yes!” she yelled, throwing her arms up in a victory dance, spinning in a circle that stopped when she saw Sam leaning against the wall, looking as hesitant as a man of his size was capable of looking.

"How much was that?" he asked.

"Four-fifty!" she answered, feeling magnaminous enough to share the joy.

His eyes widened. "Holy shit!" he blurted out, and her smile widened into a smug grin.

"Anyway," he said, after a few minutes of semi-awkward silence, "I'm sorry I was..." he waved his hands as if unable to find a word.

"Hovering? Smothering? Driving me up the wall?" Claire supplied, softening the words with a smile.

Sam rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, giving her his best sheepish grin. "Yeah. That."

She sighed. "I'm sorry I blew up at you. But seriously, you were making me crazy."

"I know," he said, taking a seat on the bench that was currently shoved against the wall, legs sprawled wide, arms dangling between. "And I really am sorry."

She sat down next to him. "I guess I just don't understand why the change all of a sudden. I mean, I know you've already been looking out for me, and I like it, when it’s normal. What took it up to crazy serial-killer stalker level?"

He looked down at his hands. "I...I'm not really sure. Maybe it's finding out that you're a prophet?"

"Okay, but what would that have to do with anything?" she asked, genuinely confused.

He closed his eyes, a pained expression on his face. "The last prophet we met was a guy named Kevin. Sweet kid; his whole life was destroyed when he became a prophet, but he still did his best to help us."

Claire slid over closer, lifting Sam's arm up around her shoulders and cuddling close. "I'm guessing from the use of the past tense that I'm not going to like where this story is going."

His face grew grimmer. "An angel killed him. While possessing me."

She blinked back the questions that came to mind, setting them aside for another time. "So...you feel guilty? You didn't have anything to do with it."

His mouth took on the stubborn cast that she had come to know all too well. "I was supposed to keep him safe. We said we were going to keep him safe. An angel wearing my body burned him out, right here in the bunker, and we didn’t stop it."

Claire resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "So all the people who are possessed by demons, they're responsible for what the demons do?"

"What?" Sam shook his head. "No, of course not. That's ridiculous."

She poked him in the chest. "Then why the fuck would you be responsible for what an angel did while you were possessed?"

He sighed, tipping his head back against the wall. "Yeah, you're right. It just feels that way, you know?"

She leaned closer to him. "Yeah, I know."

"It's not just that," he admitted. "My first long-term girlfriend was killed by a demon. The next woman I connected with turned out to be a werewolf and I had to kill her. Crowley even killed a girl I had a crush on years ago, just to prove a point. I wasn't kidding when I said most of the women I've fallen for ended up dead." His arm tightened reflexively around her. "What we have, the three of us, it's more than I ever thought I could have in my life. I don't want to lose you, too."

Her throat tightened and she swallowed down the ache in her chest until she could speak. “We both know there aren’t any guarantees. I could get hit by a bus, or choke on my dinner.”

“Or get food poisoning, or a thousand other things. I know,” he agreed with a faraway gaze, like he was remembering something unpleasant. “But now that you’re a prophet, you’re in even more danger. If Crowley finds out about you, he’s gonna make sure every demon everywhere knows they’ll be rewarded if they bring you in. Used to be you’d have an archangel watching out for you, but we’re pretty sure they’re all gone. Nobody saved Kevin.”

“What do you want, Sam?” she asked softly. “Do you want me to promise never to leave the bunker alone? Want me to stay locked up in here like some fairy-tale princess who’s too delicate to handle the real world?”

“Part of me does,” he admitted. “But--” he held up a hand when she would have spoken “--I’m not asking for that. Just...be careful?”

She nodded slowly. “I’ll try. For what it’s worth, I don’t want to be tortured by demons.”

“Good. I don’t want you to be tortured by demons either.” He kissed her lightly, then pulled back to look into her eyes. “I love you. You don’t have to say it back. I’m not trying to rush you. I just wanted to say it.”

Claire choked out a laugh. “I love you, too,” she said. “God, I think I’ve been falling in love with you two ever since you caught me trying to sneak out on you that first morning.”

Sam pulled her in for a longer, deeper kiss. “I’ve been falling in love with you ever since you sat us down and told us exactly how you wanted us to fuck you.”

His phone buzzed suddenly, and he sighed as he fished it out of his pocket, then burst out laughing, turning the screen so she could see.

_Dean: If you’re still alive, dinner in 10_

_Dean: If not, Claire, let’s eat first, then I’ll help you with the body_

Claire laughed, standing up and walking to the bar. “Come on then, help me put these weights up. If we’re late, he’s gonna pout about how it would’ve been so much better when it was fresh.”

Sam joined her, taking the plates she handed him and carrying them to the rack. Together they had the bar stripped down and back in place within 5 minutes and were headed to the kitchen.

 

“How many times did you have to hit him over the head to get him to calm the fuck down?” Dean asked as they sat down to eat.

“Only a couple,” Claire answered with a grin. “Good thing he’s got such a hard head, huh?”

“Hey,” Sam protested mildly.

“Aww.” Claire leaned over and kissed him. “It’s okay. I still love you. But if you pull that shit again, we’re going to have words.”

“Understood,” he said with a smile. “Love you, too.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Dean asked lightly.

Claire eyed him. “I figured you for the type to run for the hills if a girl even looked like saying the L word.”

He shifted uneasily on his seat. “Maybe.”

“Let’s see, then.” She reached over and laid her hand on his arm, waiting until he met her eyes. “I love you, Dean.”

And yeah, there was the expected panic in his eyes, but he didn’t pull away, and it faded into something else, something that felt like home.

He was smiling when he said it back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate summary per my husband, who has not read this chapter: People talk about their feelings (You don't want to know about the rejected ones. There was an ocelot at one point)
> 
> So yeah, this chapter fought me a lot, and I still don't know if it's where it needs to be. I can't escape the feeling that I will finish this fic and turn around and immediately revise the shit out of it. Oh, well.


	23. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire has an idea for a faster way to translate the tablet. Dean and Sam POVs

Dean rose slowly toward wakefulness, vague dream-remnants clinging like cobwebs. He was fuzzily grateful he couldn’t remember what he'd dreamed; the Mark had bathed his dreams in blood and death every night since it burned its way into his veins.

He opened the eye that wasn’t pressed into the pillow. Sam was curled up on his side, snoring away, but Claire was nowhere to be seen. Moving slowly, brain still sleep-fogged, Dean shoved himself to a sitting position on the side of the bed, scrubbed his hands over his face, and stood, stumbling toward the showers.

He was almost tired enough to be able to ignore the Mark, buzzing at the back of his mind.

_...sleeping now so easy kill him kill him no rest until you kill him kill kill kill him kill him now cut him burn him hurt him kill him… _

  
Claire had hauled an enormous whiteboard on wheels into the library from somewhere in the bunker (Dean wouldn’t be surprised to run across the Ark of the Covenant in one of the storerooms someday; at least he’d be smart enough not to open the damn thing) and had covered most of it in sigils Dean vaguely recognized. “Is that Enochian?” he asked, taking a sip to see if his coffee had cooled. It hadn’t. There went another layer of skin off his tongue. He leaned back against the table, enjoying the sight of Claire moving around the board in nothing but one of Sam's shirts.

“Yeah,” Claire didn’t look up from her frantic scribbling. “The tablet isn’t in Enochian, that’s just the language the angels use to communicate between themselves. The tablet's the actual word of God; Metatron must have made up an entire written language just to transcribe what God was saying.”

“But you can read it, right?” Dean blew on his coffee, swirled it around, blew again, took a sip. Still too hot, but hell, his tongue was already burned, and the heat and pain made the Mark just a little more distant.

Claire paused, head tilted to the side in thought. “Yes. Technically.”

“How do you read something technically?” he asked, genuinely curious. “You can either read it or you can’t.”

“I understand what the tablet says,” she said. “I just don’t understand it in English.”

He stared blankly at her.

“I didn’t learn” she waved her hand at the tablet “whatever this is written in the way I normally learn a language. It just kind of got shoved into my brain--”

“And that’s why you had the headaches,” Dean interrupted.

“And that’s why I had the headaches,” she agreed. “So I know what the words mean, in a part of my brain that does not understand English. I’m having to force my brain to make those connections. Enochian is closer to--hell, I’m just going to start calling it Tablet--than English is. Translating it into Enochian helps my brain build the connections, gets me closer to just being able to straight-up translate it.”

“Okay.” Either the coffee was the perfect temperature now, or Dean had managed to burn his tongue badly enough that he couldn’t tell. “I don’t suppose that thing has an index or a table of contents.”

Claire grinned at him. “Sadly, no. I’m sure if Metatron had it to do over again, he’d fix that little oversight. But it’s all just kind of one long ramble. I’m having to go through it one part at a time.”

“So nothing yet?” Dean couldn’t help being disappointed, even though two months ago they hadn’t know there was a way to get rid of the Mark, much less what they’d need.

“Nothing new.” Claire frowned at the board. “The tablet lists the four archangels we already knew about. I haven't run across anything about another one yet. Like I said, this rambles a lot. But even if there isn't another archangel, maybe there's a way to summon Gabriel, or at least see if he's alive. Or something else that might help."

Dean grunted, draining the rest of the coffee. "I'll let you get back to it, then." He started toward the kitchen, frowned, and turned back. "How long have you been up?"

"Hmmm?" Claire said absently, crossing out a sigil and writing another in its place. "Oh, I don't know. What time is it now?"

He checked his watch. "About seven-twenty."

She filled a chunk of the remaining blank space with more Enochian. "Huh. Well, I woke up because I realized that I could translate the tablet into Enochian, and then work from that to English...I don't know what time it was exactly."

"You did all this this morning? Have you eaten anything since dinner?" he asked.

"Huh?" She erased two sigils and reversed their positions. "Uh, dinner...that was pizza?"

He sighed. "No, the pizza was lunch. We had chicken for dinner."

"Oh, yeah, that's right." She capped the marker and tapped it against her mouth. "No, I don't think I had anything this morning."

Dean closed his eyes and summoned his patience. "Okay. I'm gonna make breakfast. You have until then to work, but when it's ready you're taking a break and eating a meal like a normal, non-crazy person. Capisce?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, breakfast. Sounds great, thanks," Claire said, referring to a photo of the tablet before returning to her frantic scribbling.

He sighed and headed to the kitchen to break out the bacon.

 

Sam pulled on his shirt as he left the showers and followed the scents of coffee and bacon to the kitchen, but got derailed mere feet from his goal when he saw the whiteboard and what was written on it. He stood there for several minutes, trying to dredge up the Enochian he'd been slowly teaching himself from the Men of Letters' spellbooks. _Let's see_... _light burns away...evil? wickedness?...song of vengeance..._

Voices in the kitchen broke into his impromptu translation attempt and, as if on cue,  his stomach rumbled. Reluctantly, he left the library and went into the kitchen, pausing in the doorway to savor the sight in front of him.

Dean was smiling, easy and relaxed in a way that he seldom was since the Mark, gesturing broadly as he told a story. Claire was curled into the chair next to him (wearing my shirt, the possessive caveman part of his brain noted), eyes alight with amusement as she nibbled on a piece of bacon.

Something in Sam uncurled, something he hadn’t even realized was there until it relaxed, basking in the knowledge that they were here, they were safe, they were together. It felt so good he didn’t even mind (much) when he heard Dean say “And he was covered in glitter!” and realized what story was being told.

“Could’ve been worse,” he said mildly, loading up a plate for himself before sitting down at the table. “I could’ve actually been killed. By killer clowns. That’s one phobia that’s never actually going to go away.”

“Awww,” Claire said, patting his arm. “Is that the worst part of being a hunter? Actually having to face the things that scare you?”

“Nah,” Dean said, taking advantage of the fact that Sam’s mouth was full. “The worst part is the pay that we don’t ever get.”

Sam swallowed his food and made a rude noise. “Riiiiiight. I still remember the time we had to get on a plane. I thought you were gonna pass out, you were breathing so fast.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Dean muttered, taking his empty plate and fork to the dishwasher.

Sam turned back to Claire, who was clearly trying not to laugh. “So what’s with the Enochian on the board?”

She lit up and started explaining the “translate once, then again” idea, off and running a mile a minute, so much so that he didn’t have to do much more than smile and nod while he finished his breakfast, aside from the occasional “Yeah?” and “Oh, okay.”

“I should really get back to it, actually,” she concluded as he scraped the last bits of gravy off of his plate.

“Nope,” Dean interjected firmly. “First you should shower and get dressed. And then, if I can’t convince you to get some of the sleep you missed, you can go back to the tablet.”

“But I’m almost done!” Claire protested. “Just a little bit longer. One hour, two, tops. I’ll shower then, promise.”

Dean was opening his mouth to argue when his phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket, frowned at the screen, and answered it. “Cas? What’s up, man? You are? Okay, yeah, just a minute.” He hung up and shoved the phone back into his pocket, heading out of the kitchen with long, ground-eating strides.

Sam and Claire exchanged glances and followed. They came into the war room from the library just in time to see Dean open the bunker door and usher Castiel inside.

“What’s going on, Cas?” Sam called up the stairs.

Castiel’s face crumpled as he followed Dean down the stairs. “I’m sorry,” he said thickly. “I tried, but he knows.”

For once, Claire was included in the quick, unspoken conversation that flowed between Sam and Dean, raised eyebrows and shrugs clearly communicating _What’s he talking about?_ and _Hell if I know_.

“Calm down, man, start from the beginning. Who knows?” Dean asked gently.

Castiel took a deep breath. “Crowley. He found out about Claire.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little domesticity before things get really crazy! By my very loose outlining, we're about two-thirds of the way through where I think it's going (emphasis on think; these guys don't always cooperate with what I have planned).
> 
> As always, thank you for each and every kudo, comment, bookmark, and subscription. Every time I get that notification, it makes my day just a little brighter.


	24. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A solution to the archangel issue only brings more questions. Dean's POV.

Dean’s hands stopped in the middle of attaching the recoil spring to the bottom of the slide on his 1911. For a minute he couldn’t pinpoint what, exactly, had caught his attention. Then he realized that Claire was frozen in her seat, no pen tapping against the table, no head bobbing in time to the music that filled the room, no feet swinging or twitching against her chair. Only her eyes moved, darting back and forth across whatever she’d just written down.

“Claire?” he asked softly, and saw Sam’s head snap up out of the corner of his eye. “Everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, still not moving. “Castiel, would you mind to come double-check my Enochian here?”

Cas’s eyes flicked to Dean, waiting for Dean’s nod before he stood and moved to stand over Claire’s shoulder.

“Here’s where I translated from the tablet into Enochian,” she said, pointing to one sheet of paper. “And here’s the closest English equivalent I could get.”

Cas compared the two sheets of paper, the furrow between his eyebrows deepening as he read, then his eyes widened suddenly and he froze, much as Claire had, appearing to re-read something again and again.

Finally he straightened. “I see no error in your translation of Enochian to English,” he said softly. "Are you certain the Enochian accurately represents what is written on the tablet?”

Claire nodded slowly. “I’ve triple-checked it, and I’m getting the same thing every time.”

“Is there another archangel?” Dean asked, unable to keep quiet any longer.

“No...well, not exactly,” Claire said.

“Either there is or there isn’t,” Sam put in. “How can there ‘not exactly’ be another archangel?”

Claire bit her lip. “According to the tablet, God only created four archangels. But the tablet also contains instructions on how an angel can become an archangel.”

Sam and Dean both froze as they processed that information (apparently that was the standard reaction, some part of Dean’s brain noted dryly).

“So angels have a built-in leveling-up system?” Dean said finally.

“And you’re always calling me a nerd,” Sam snorted.

Claire smiled at the brief byplay. “It does look that way. The tablet says something about not leaving Heaven without leadership in case something happens to the archangels.”

Cas rolled his eyes, surprising Dean, but he seemed to be utilizing more and more human mannerisms as more of  his Grace bled away. “What a lovely sentiment. If only we’d had access to this information _four years ago_ , when it could have been useful.”

“Well, hell, this solves a lot of problems,” Dean said, choosing to ignore for the moment the issue of all the things that had happened while Heaven was “without leadership.” “We do the spell or whatever, Cas is an archangel, we don't have to worry about him losing his Grace anymore, and he takes the Mark off. This might actually work.”

Claire and Sam were nodding, but Cas looked shocked and appalled. “Me? But…”

“It’s perfect,” Dean said. “I wouldn’t trust Gabriel or any of those other dicks possessing Sammy even if they were around. Who knows if they'd just decide to set up shop permanently? I trust you, Cas.”

“You shouldn’t,” he said harshly, pacing jerkily away and then back again. “What have I done with power when I had it? I’ve killed hundreds of angels. I made a deal with Crowley and unleashed Leviathan on the world. I was the key that locked Heaven against us. I was the one who tore down the wall in Sam’s head." His voice dropped to a broken thread, barely audible. "I don't deserve to be trusted."

"You think nobody here has ever fucked up?" Dean demanded. "I broke the first seal, Sam set Lucifer loose. Abaddon would've been safely buried if we hadn't dug her up again, and we're the ones that found fucking Metatron in the first place." He didn't realize he was standing until he gripped Cas's shoulder. "Yeah, you've made mistakes. But every time, every fucking time, Cas, you've tried to fix it. Just about killed yourself doing it, sometimes, too."

Cas lifted his eyes to meet Dean's gaze, looking more lost than Dean had seen him in a long time. "That much power...it could change me. I could become like Michael, like Lucifer, like Raphael. Uncaring of anything else, convinced that I am in the right when I destroy." He shuddered under Dean's hand. "I can't do that again. I won't."

"We won't let you," Sam said firmly. "You're family, Cas. We won't let that happen."

"Promise," Dean said, shaking Cas gently, just a little. "We let you down before. It won't happen again."

Cas breathed deeply and nodded. "If you're certain you wish me to do this thing, I will," he said, swallowing. "Of course, it might not work," he added thoughtfully. "The trial is intended for an angel in possession of their own Grace, not one whose Grace is stolen."

"What does it say, Claire?" Sam asked.

Claire turned back to the papers on the table. "Well, keeping in mind that this is a translation of a translation, it seems pretty straightforward. There's only one trial. 'He who creates an angel, a new warrior in the host, shall ascend to the ranks of the Highest.'"

"So how do you create an angel?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I didn't know new angels could be created," Sam said. "I thought they were already created by God, before he created humans and all the rest."

"We were his first creatures," Cas agreed. "I know each of their names, and none of them were created by another angel."

Claire shrugged. "That would probably be why we only know of the four archangels. Seems like God didn't spread this little tidbit around."

"And Metatron wouldn't have, either, for fear someone might amass enough power to challenge him," Cas mused. "Naomi would have attempted it, as would Bartholomew and Malachi. But I know of no way to create an angel."

Claire turned back to the table. "There was something...it was in the middle of a bit that seemed especially poetic and metaphorical, and I was scanning for archangel stuff, so I didn't pay much attention...Where was it?"

She shuffled through the stack of papers, pausing now and again to read something more closely, then shook her head and moved on. After a couple of minutes of this, Cas joined her in her search, Sam went back to his computer, and Dean returned to reassembling his gun.

“Is this it?” Cas asked a short time later, handing over a sheet of paper.

Claire took it and scanned down, coming back to the top and reading more slowly. “I think so. What does that even mean?”

Cas leaned in to look at the paper, taking the other side to steady it. Dean suddenly noticed how close they were standing, Claire’s shoulder snug against Cas’s chest, and was vaguely surprised that it didn’t bother him. He glanced over at Sam to see that, not only was he not upset, he was actually smiling what Dean recognized as his _I have a really, spectacularly filthy idea_ smile.

Dean started to smile, too, having an inkling of where this was going, but before he could get too lost in his imagination, Sam cleared his throat. “So does it say how to create an angel?”

Claire huffed out a frustrated breath. “Your guess is as good as mine. Basically it says, “In worthy soul’s ground, a graceful seed shall flourish and be fruitful, heaven’s warrior shall rise.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” Dean asked.

“I am uncertain as well,” Cas said. “Is there any other part of the tablet that could be a reference to how an angel is created?”

Claire shrugged. “I can’t think of anything, but I’m not exactly a searchable database, here. Once I finish translating the Enochian to English, we can get it in the computer and be able to search it.”

Dean caught the way Sam frowned and opened his mouth to speak as Claire turned back to the table. He shook his head quickly, waiting until Sam pretended to return to whatever he was doing before saying, “How long has it been since you slept, sweetheart?”

She waved an absent hand. “Oh, I slept last night.”

“Yeah, and you were up at godawful o’clock in the morning,” he retorted. “You’ve finished the Enochian, right?”

“Yeah,” she said, still not looking up.

“Cas, you can help translate Enochian to English, right?” he persisted.

“Certainly,” Cas answered promptly.

“Great. Cas will work on that while you take a nap and then you can get back to it,” Dean pronounced, spinning her chair gently away from the table.

“But--” she started to protest.

“I’ll nap with you,” he cajoled, leaning in to murmur in her ear. “I didn’t sleep all that well last night myself. Bad dreams.”

She gave him a look that said clearly _I know what you’re doing here_ , but allowed herself to be pulled up out of her chair and followed him down the hall to his bedroom. She dropped her jeans and bra to the floor and crawled into the bed in her t-shirt, nestling into the pillow as he sat on the side of the bed to pull off his boots, jeans, and shirt, then slipped under the covers in his boxers.

Dean sighed contentedly as Claire snuggled into his side, her head pillowed on his chest. “You’re amazing, you know that?” he said softly.

“I guess,” she said uncertainly.

He pulled back a little to look into her eyes. “I mean it. Your whole life has changed, and you’re not curled up in the corner crying, you’re working your ass off trying to help.”

She shrugged minutely. “Well, what else am I going to do? Sit around whining about how it’s not fair? I’m not twelve anymore. I can help. I want to help.”

He leaned down to kiss her forehead, sucking in a surreptitious breath before saying, “And that’s why we love you.”

Her eyes widened and lit up as she realized what he’d said, and the curl of warmth in his stomach was worth every bit of discomfort it caused him to say it. “I love you, too, Dean.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, chunk o' plot stuff there, with some fluffy bits at the end. Fear not, there shall be more smut in the future. 
> 
> Aside from my NaNoWriMo novel, this is the first piece of writing I've ever gotten close to finishing. I'm so thankful for all the kudos, comments, bookmarks and subscriptions. Each one encourages me to keep moving and get this story told!


	25. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam has an idea, and Claire is a little embarrassed to tell them what she wants. Sam's POV

The three of them were a sweaty, satisfied tangle in the bed, breath just starting to even out. Sam considered the timing and decided it was just about perfect.

“Next time we should ask Cas if he wants to watch,” he mused, eyes on Claire for her reaction. He was expecting it to be entertaining, and she didn’t disappoint.

She tried to jerk back, but between Dean’s legs over hers and Sam’s arms holding her close, she was pretty nearly immobilized. Sam watched, fascinated, as the blush started in her cheeks and flowed down her neck and chest. He could actually feel the skin under his arm and hands heat up.

“Works for me,” Dean rumbled, never opening his eyes.

Sam smiled as Claire’s eyes widened further. “Well, baby?” he prompted. “What do you think?”

She opened her mouth, closed it for a moment, then opened it again. “First off, what makes you think he’d even want to?” she asked, clearly trying to match their casual attitude.

Dean snorted. “Cas is fascinated by humans. I’m surprised he hasn’t asked to watch us before now, just out of curiosity.”

“And I’ve seen the way he watches you,” Sam added, enjoying the way the blush surged back to skin it had previously abandoned. “He’d want to.”

“But he’s an angel!” she protested. “What do angels care about sex?”

“He’s an angel, but one that’s living in a very human body,” Sam pointed out. “Even if his Grace wasn’t fading, I think he might surprise you.”

Dean muttered something that sounded like _Sure as hell surprised me a couple of times_ , and Claire giggled.

“But the question wasn’t if he’d want to,” Sam persisted. “The question was, what do you think about this? It’s okay if it’s not something you want to do. But if you’re just scared because you think you’re not supposed to want it, or because you’re worried about what we’ll think of you for wanting it, that’s different.” He brushed back strands of hair that were sticking to her cheek, cradling her face in his hand.

Claire sucked in a breath, closing her eyes. “I...I’d like to try it. But there’s a part of my brain that’s telling me I shouldn’t want to.”

Sam leaned in and kissed her gently. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But I think you might really enjoy this. I know we would.”

Dean opened his eyes and maneuvered himself so that he was draped over Claire’s back. “Look at it this way,” he suggested. “How did you feel when Cas busted in on you while we were having phone sex that one time?”

Claire shuddered between them, closing her eyes and flushing hotter than before. “Embarrassed,” she finally said, her voice barely audible.

“And what else?” Dean prompted her, his voice low and coaxing in her ear. “Were you just embarrassed?”

“No,” she admitted even more softly.

They waited for her to continue, letting the silence draw out, Dean shooting Sam a look when he opened his mouth to say something.

Finally, eyes still closed, she admitted. “I liked it. If I hadn’t just come, that would’ve made me come.”

Sam caught Dean's eye over Claire's shoulder and they shared a grin. "I'm glad you trust us enough to tell us that," Sam said, rubbing soothing circles on her skin.

"It's hard," she said quietly, opening her eyes. "The way I was raised, sex was a wonderful thing...for making babies. I don't think I ever heard either of my parents use the word. When my mom gave me 'the talk' it was all about the reproductive system. The closest she came to telling me about sex was saying that when I was married, it'd be okay for my husband to see me naked." She shrugged. "No matter how much I know better now, it's hard to get past those knee-jerk reactions of 'I shouldn't want this.'"

Dean let out a low whistle. "You're lucky you didn't end up a pregnant teenager."

Sam smacked him on the head.

"Hey!" Dean protested.

"You can't just say shit like that," Sam scolded, but Claire was shaking with laughter between them.

"No, he's right," she said, laughter still sweetening the edges of her voice. "I was a huge ball of hormones, no idea what to do with them. All it would've taken was one guy sweet-talking me and I would've been knocked up _so_ fast."

Dean flushed a little. "You might not have gotten pregnant," he mumbled.

She shook her head. "No, with my genetics, I probaby would've. I have nine brothers and sisters."

"Holy shit!" they both blurted out.

Claire smiled the way she always did when they spoke simultaneously. "Yeah. My parents believed that kids were blessings from God, so why wouldn't you want all the blessings you could get?"

"Quality over quantity," Dean muttered, and she laughed.

"Nine?" Sam asked incredulously. "How do you keep up with each other?"

She sobered. "We don't. Well, I don't. When I decided I didn't want to be religious and I wasn't sure I believed in God, my parents said I wasn't part of the family any more, and told me not to contact them or any of my siblings. They didn't want me 'leading them away from the truth.'" Her mouth twisted, but her voice took on a flippant tone. "Came in handy when the whole angel mess started, though. No family to worry about noticing any changes in Jake's behavior."

Sam was a little ashamed to realize that they'd never asked Claire about her family, just assumed that, like them, she was alone in the world. He could tell Dean was thinking the same thing, but a few seconds of eye contact was enough to make the decision to turn the conversation in a different direction, one that wasn't about to make her cry.

"So how did you learn about sex, then?" Sam asked. "School?"

"Oh, _hell_ no," she snorted, her voice scathing. "We were homeschooled. Can't have those precious young minds exposed to dangerous ideas like evolution and sex ed. I started college at seventeen, and if my scholarship hadn't required me to live in the dorms, I'd probably have taken a lot longer to stop drinking the kool-aid. No, I learned about sex from books."

"Kinda surprised your parents let that happen," Dean commented.

She shrugged. "They had no idea. I read so much my mom would've had trouble keeping up even if I'd been the only kid. Multiply me by ten and there was no chance. I did slip up sometimes and she'd keep an eye on me for awhile, but I got really good at hiding them. It was my only real rebellion while I lived at home. And even after I wasn't living there anymore, reading was still how I learned about..things," she finished, a little lamely.

Sam felt his eyebrows raise. "So you're telling me that you sat us down in a bar and had a very calm conversation about your specific kinks, which you learned about from books?"

"Not _just_ from books," she protested. "The Internet is a valuable resource. And it's not like you two were the first guys I slept with."

"Hey, I'm impressed," he reassured her. "Like I said, I love that you trust us enough to admit what you want. It's almost as much of a turn-on as the actual sex."

"Speak for yourself," Dean retorted, dragging his mouth along her shoulder and groaning a little bit when she pressed back against him. "Shit, sweetheart, I can't wait to see Cas's face when he gets a load of you. What do you think? Should we cuff you? Let him see how much you like it?"

"Or maybe we should just hold you down," Sam mused. "You always go nuts for that."

Claire shivered between them, jerking in surprise as Sam pulled back enough to slide a hand up her inner thigh and press two fingers inside her pussy at the same time that Dean cupped her breasts in his hands, his thumbs skating lightly over her nipples.

"Always so wet for us, baby," Sam murmured, starting a steady rhythm with his fingers as his thumb slid up to find her clit. "Gonna blow Cas's mind, the way you look when we're fucking you, the sounds you make."

"You'll beg us for it, won't you?" Dean purred into her ear. "Let him hear how much you want it, the way you beg us to fuck you, beg to have our cocks inside you?"

She moaned in response and Dean pinched her nipples lightly. "Answer me, sweetheart."

"Yes," she panted, almost gasping as they drove her higher. "Yes, whatever you want, do whatever you want."

"Good girl," Sam said, leaning in to kiss her and pushing a third finger inside her slick heat. From the sounds she was making, the way her pussy was tightening around his fingers, she was right on the edge, and he caught Dean's eye for a minute, that strange sense that allowed them to communicate without words on a hunt or off it still working. He leaned in to scrape his teeth across her neck on one side while Dean matched him on the other and she shuddered between them as she came.

They stroked and petted her as she came back down, and Sam smiled when he heard Dean whisper "love you" into her ear.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having fun playing with the boys' points of view, in case you couldn't tell. Don't worry, I haven't forgotten the plot.
> 
> Still loving the comments and kudos and bookmarks. You guys are making this an amazing and rewarding experience. Thank you!


	26. Mean Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do you make a new angel?

“So I was thinking,” Dean said in between bites of waffles. “Maybe we’re overthinking this. Maybe Cas just needs to get an angel pregnant. Boom, new angel.”

Castiel shook his head. “Angels are not physical beings. If I were to sire a child while in this vessel, he or she would be a nephilim, not an angel.”

“But what if the mother was also an angel’s vessel?” Dean persisted.

Castiel hesitated. “I'm not certain, but I believe it would not make a difference. Since women possess their full complement of ova at birth, they most likely would not become infused with Grace the way that sperm does upon its creation in a possessed vessel.”

Dean held up a hand. “ _Way_ too much information for the breakfast table, Cas.”

“My apologies,” Castiel said, flushing a little across his cheekbones. “At any rate, I would hesitate to attempt such a thing unless we were certain of it being the correct solution. For one thing, waiting for nine months--”

“Ten,” Claire interrupted, and they all stared at her. “‘Standard’ pregnancy length is forty weeks; if you assume four weeks to a month, it’s ten months. Plus, a lot of women are overdue, so maybe even longer.”

Sam and Dean looked horrified and vaguely nauseous, while Castiel tipped his head toward her in acknowledgment. “Waiting for ten months for a child to be born would not be an optimal solution. Even if it were, however, we do not know for certain that such a child would be born an angel, and I hesitate to create a nephilim. It would be a hard and lonely life, being shunned as an abomination, and I don’t like to think of any child, let alone my child, suffering such a fate.”

“Besides,” Sam pointed out, “that doesn’t really match the part about the ‘worthy soul,’ does it? I mean, obviously a kid’s soul is going to start out worthy, but you’d think they’d use a different word, like ‘innocent.’”

“Well, shit,” Dean said, returning to the remainder of his breakfast. “That was my one idea. Somebody else’s turn.”

“Maybe Sam’s onto something,” Claire said slowly. “When I was translating from the tablet, ‘worthy’ was the best equivalent I could find. The one on the tablet...I got a sense of, experience, I guess.”

“So maybe a soul that’s passed on?” Sam asked. “But if it’s a worthy soul, they’d be in Heaven, right? Why would anyone give up that to become an angel?”

“For some, even the most ideal rest might become a burden eventually,” Castiel said. “For example, I have trouble imagining Dean enjoying an eternity with nothing to hunt.”

“Hey!” Dean said, swallowing the last of his breakfast. “I could do a lot with eternity.”

Castiel gave him a fond, slightly exasperated smile. “And I imagine after a few eons of fixing your car, eating pie, and masturbating, you would become bored enough to start finding your way into other people’s Heavens.”

“I...well…” Dean stammered to a halt and Claire was forced to look away quickly when she almost burst out laughing after meeting Sam’s eyes across the table.

Sam cleared his throat, ostentatiously changing the subject. “So maybe we should find a soul in Heaven who’s interested in becoming an angel?”

“But we still have no idea how to cause the transformation,” Castiel pointed out. “Perhaps finishing the tablet translation will provide some answers.”

“Yeah, we should probably get on that,” Claire agreed, pushing back from the table.

Sam caught her hand as she passed him and tugged her down for a kiss. “Let us know if you guys find something?”

“You’ll be the first,” she agreed. “Come on, Castiel, the library awaits!”

 

“What about this?” Castiel asked, pushing a sheet of paper closer to her.

“Where?” Claire asked, leaning in so she could see what he was talking about.

He pointed to a passage at the bottom of the paper. “Here. See? ‘He who would become one of the Highest, must first be the least.’”

“Ugh. It’s so  _biblical_ ,” Claire complained, leaning back in her chair and stretching, her arms reaching above her head, her toes pointing in front of her.

“With good reason,” Castiel pointed out, and yeah, Sam was right, he did watch her. “The Bible is an interpretation of God’s Word, as is the tablet.”

Claire nodded. “I know, I know, and it’s not fair for me to take my issues with religion and bring them into this, but it’s hard.”

“What issues with religion?” he asked curiously.

She shrugged, trying for nonchalant. “My parents basically used religion as an excuse to keep me and my brothers and sisters ignorant and either guilt or terrify us into believing the way they did. The idea of ‘church’ for me is so wrapped up in guilt and fear and shame that the thought of attending services in one sends me into a panic attack.”

Castiel sighed. “I’m sorry to hear that. My own family is far from perfect,” he said, mouth twisting into a wry smile, “so I understand a little of the pain that can be caused, even by those with the best of intentions.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “But about the tablet…”

“What do you think it means?” he asked, his tone curious.

She stared at the paper, chewing on the end of her pen. “Well, it talks about becoming one of ‘the Highest’ again, so it’s probably talking about becoming an archangel...look here. See?”

He leaned closer, scanning the paper. “Ah.”

“Ah, what?” Dean asked from behind them, and they both jumped a little.

Claire smacked his arm lightly in punishment for startling her. “The tablet reads like it was written after the creation of the angels and humanity,” she explained. “This part makes it seem like God wasn’t any too happy with angelic attitudes towards humans.”

“Well, that makes two of us,” Dean grumbled. “So?”

“So, it looks like He wanted to be sure that anyone who became an archangel would be a little less stuck-up about humans. This passage seems to imply that part of the process of becoming an archangel would use up their Grace. They’d be human for a little while.”

Dean whistled between his teeth. “Yeah, can’t see Uriel or Balthazar going for that.”

“Highly unlikely,” Castiel agreed. “Our Grace is not given up lightly.”

“But what would you do with it that uses it up?” Sam asked, buttoning his shirt as he came into the library, his hair still damp from the shower.

Claire grabbed a scan of the tablet, tracing her fingers over the characters incised in the clay. "I translated it as 'graceful seed,' but it could mean 'seed of Grace.' Maybe you have to take all of your Grace and use it to change the soul into an angel."

“So the Grace _is_ the seed?” Castiel said, his forehead furrowed in thought.

She shrugged. “Maybe? It seems logical, but we’re piling conjecture on top of assumption here.”

“It makes sense with the information we have,” Sam said quietly.

“What happens if we’re wrong?” Dean asked. “What if Cas shoves all his Grace into this soul and nothing happens?”

Castiel’s expression cleared. “Then we will have simply accelerated the process that was already happening.”

“You mean you’ll die,” Dean said flatly.

“Perhaps,” Castiel shrugged. “Or perhaps I will simply be human, and live out a human lifespan.”

“No,” Dean said, pacing away from the table and then back again. “It’s not worth it. We’ll wait until we’re sure.”

Castiel reached out and stopped Dean with a hand on his shoulder. “We may never be sure, Dean. What then?”

“Then you put me down, take me out, do whatever you have to do,” Dean snapped. “I’m not gonna let you die for me, Cas.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Castiel said gently, holding on when Dean would have flinched away. “All that happens if we wait is that my Grace grows weaker and success becomes less likely.”

Sam cleared his throat. “Are you sure about this, Cas?”

“You said I was family,” Castiel answered, his eyes never leaving Dean’s, one corner of his mouth tipping up in a crooked smile. “Would you let anything stop you if you thought there was a chance to save Dean?”

“No,” Sam admitted.

“We already know what you would do to save Sam, or to save me,” Castiel said to Dean, and Dean closed his eyes briefly in the face of a truth he couldn’t deny. “We’ve seen it over and over again. I’m dying by inches, Dean. I can feel this Grace draining from me, a little more with each passing moment. Let me choose this. Let it _mean_ something.”

Dean breathed deeply and reached out his hand, groping blindly until he found Claire’s and squeezing hard enough to steal her breath.

“Okay,” he said softly, and the joy on Castiel’s face was so blinding that she had to look away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Completely inappropriate, but every time Sam and Dean and Cas start talking about family, I have to forcibly stop myself from going down the Lilo & Stitch path...
> 
> Anyway, yeah, sorry to disappoint those who thought Cas and Claire were gonna have to get it on to "make an angel" (best euphemism ever)(Anybody else read that Tanya Huff series?), but, like Cas says, angels are nonphysical beings, so physical procreation isn't how it works.
> 
> I am continually humbled by the amazing response to this piece. Thank you all so much. Every kudos, every comment, every bookmark brings me so much joy.


	27. Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is stubborn, Claire is clever, and Sam puts their plan into action

“Absolutely not,” Dean snapped.

“Dean,” Castiel said patiently, “if I’m to create an angel, Heaven is the logical place to look.”

“What if it doesn’t work?” Dean demanded. “What if you’re dying or if you’re just a mortal? Will you be able to get out again? Or are you going to be stuck there forever, in someone else’s Heaven?”

They all looked to Castiel for the answer. He paused obviously taken aback. “I’m not sure. I might be able to leave, even as a mortal. Heaven doesn’t appreciate interlopers.”

Dean pounced on the slight hesitation. “But you’re not sure.”

“No, Dean, I’m not sure,” Castiel said, one corner of his mouth tipping up in a smile caught somewhere between fondness and exasperation.

“Then you’re not doing it,” Dean said flatly. “Not if we can’t guarantee we’ll get you back. We’re taking enough of a chance having you do this. I’ll be damned if I let you rot in Heaven.”

“I’ve been stuck in worse places,” Castiel said wryly, but raised a hand to forestall anything further from Dean. “However, I would prefer to avoid it if at all possible. But how are we going to find a worthy soul if we’re not in Heaven?”

“Maybe Dean or I could go in and ferry one out,” Sam offered. “Like Dean did for Benny or I did for Bobby.”

Dean shook his head. “Crowley killed that Reaper that got you in last time, and I bet he’s keeping a damn close eye on Purgatory.”

Castiel threw up his hands. “Then what, Dean? Maybe you want to offer a suggestion instead of deciding that our plans won’t work?”

“Why does the soul have to come from Heaven?” Claire asked, and all three men turned to her simultaneously with a look that said clearly, _What are you, stupid?_

 “There aren’t a whole lot of ‘worthy souls’ in Hell, sweetheart,” Dean said finally.

“You were there, weren’t you?” she retorted. “And so was Bobby. Who knows who all Crowley’s got squirreled away down there on a technicality? Or just flat out stolen?”

She paused long enough to see their eyes widen with understanding before continuing. “But that wasn’t actually my point. Why can’t you find the soul here on Earth, before their death? Or even somebody who gets stuck here after death, before they go all vengeful spirit?”

“That...could work,” Castiel said slowly. “We would be able to receive the soul’s consent. But where would we start to look?”

Claire shrugged. “I’d start with a veteran’s hospital. Plenty of soldiers there. Bet you could find one that would be willing to upgrade to an angel blade.”

“Have I told you lately that you’re kind of a genius?” Sam asked.

“Not lately,” she answered with a smile.

“Good idea,” Dean said. “Where’s the nearest VA hospital?”

Claire pulled her laptop toward her and opened the browser. “Looks like...either Wichita or Topeka.”

“Think we can get in with the FBI badges?” Sam asked. “Or do we need something different?”

"We don't know who we're looking for," Dean pointed out. "FBI badges won't do much good there."

Sam grabbed his laptop and started typing. "Maybe I can hack into their database, see if I can pick out some names. Then we can go in with the fed badges, act like we're investigating some kind of cold case and need to talk to them."

"Can I be of any assistance?" Castiel asked, but Sam's fingers were flying over the keyboard.

"Nah, man, I'm good," he said absently.

"C'mon, Cas, come help me make lunch," Dean said. "He's gonna be awhile."

 

Claire looked up from the computer where she was entering the English translation of the tablet, correcting the occasional word as she went. For a moment she couldn't figure out what had caught her attention. All was quiet in the library. Castiel was bent over a book from the Men of Letters collection, Dean had finished his lunch and picked up a magazine, and Sam was working on his computer next to her.

Then she noticed that Sam's fingers had stopped moving and Dean wasn't actually looking at the magazine he held. She only caught the end of their silent conversation, Sam's raised eyebrows and jerk of the head, Dean's nod.

Sam turned to her, and despite the many, many somewhat embarrassing and extremely kinky things they'd done together, the possessive, hungry look in his eyes was enough to make her blush.

Before she could so much as squeak, he pulled her out of her chair and onto his lap, his big hands wrapping around her legs and tugging her forward until she was straddling him, his mouth devouring hers.

She could feel the thick, hard, length of his cock pressing up against her and she moaned into his mouth as he rolled his hips up into her. He fisted a hand in her hair and tugged her head gently back, letting his mouth trail down her neck, teeth scraping lightly. She moaned again, louder, and felt him growl wordless approval against her skin.

“Um,” Castiel said. “I think I should go.”

Claire opened her eyes enough to see that he was standing, eyes dropped to the floor, a hot flush tinting his cheekbones. But when Sam’s free hand slid up her ribcage to cup her breast, thumb skimming over the nipple, she gasped, and Cas’s eyes darted up again, as if drawn to her against his will.

“You could go,” Dean said, his casual tone belying the tension in his eyes as he sauntered toward Cas, circling behind him until he could speak directly in his ear. “Or you could stay and watch.”

Cas (it was impossible to think of him as Castiel now, somehow) shuddered, and Claire had a moment of sympathy, knowing firsthand how it felt to have Dean purring seductive suggestions into your ear.

“N-no,” Cas stuttered. forcing his eyes back down. “I...I’m going to go.” But he stood unmoving, his hands clenched into fists.

“That’s a shame,” Dean said, his voice still that low, dark rasp that sent shivers down Claire’s spine, but she couldn’t pay too much attention because Sam was stripping her shirt over her head and reaching back to unhook her bra, dropping on the floor.

“Claire likes being watched,” Dean confided, and Cas shuddered again, although Claire wasn't sure if it was from Dean's words or the sound she made when Sam closed both hands over her breasts.

Dean lowered his voice further, practically growling out the words. "Makes her crazy to know we're watching her, seeing how much she loves it. If you really don't want to watch, that's fine, man. But I don't think you really want to go. I think you want to see, see what she looks like when she's making those noises you've heard through the wall. We want it, too--all of us. We talked about it."

Cas swallowed, hard. "Stop, Sam," he ground out, his voice carrying a snap of command that had Sam's hands stilling immediately.

Cas's eyes burned in his face, impossibly blue as they met hers. "Do you want this, Claire?" he asked, almost gently.

"If you do," she answered immediately. "Don't want you to do anything you don't want to. But Dean's right--I like being watched. And we trust you."

His face softened and he nodded thoughtfully before circling the table and taking a seat in a chair closer to them (one with a good view, her mind helpfully pointed out).

"Would I just be watching?" he asked calmly, leaning back into the chair, arms and legs sprawled wide. "Or could I make...suggestions?"

Claire shuddered under Sam's hands and he grinned wickedly, squeezing lightly. "You like that idea, baby?"

She nodded wordlessly and Dean chuckled from where he'd found his own chair on the other side of them. "Well, we all know how much you like being told what to do."

Cas made an interested noise. "Is that so, Claire? You like that?"

She shuddered again, the gravel of his voice rasping pleasantly over her nerves, and had to close her eyes for a moment, unprepared for the edgy intensity that came from adding Cas into the mix. "You guys are gonna kill me," she muttered under her breath.

“What should we do first, Cas?” Sam asked, tiny movements of his hands making her squirm against him, desperate for more stimulation.

Cas waved a hand. “Go ahead and continue as you were. I’ll speak up if I have an idea.”

Sam leaned down and captured one of her nipples with his mouth, making her gasp and arch back. She could see Cas and Dean out of the corners of her eyes, feel the warmth of Dean’s eyes and the laser-like intensity of Cas’s attention, but Sam kept her grounded, using hands and mouth to toy with her breasts until she was moaning and grinding down against him, desperate for enough stimulation to come.

She didn’t realize she was begging, an incoherent mix of curses and pleas spilling out of her mouth until Dean growled, “That’s it, sweetheart, beg him for it.”

“Please, Sam, fuck, shit, please,” she babbled, trying to pull together enough focus to create a coherent sentence, but he scraped his teeth over one nipple and his thumbnail over the other and his name on her lips turned into an incoherent scream as she came.

Hands slid around her (Dean, some part of her mind identified them, familiar callouses rasping lightly across the skin of her belly) tugging her to her feet, unbuttoning and unzipping her jeans and pulling them off with her panties in one fell swoop.

Sam stripped off his shirts and shoved his jeans and boxers down his legs before settling back into the chair, pulling her back astride him before she had time to really think about anything.

He slid two fingers easily up into her pussy, and the slick slide made her throw her head back and moan. “Ready for me, baby?” he murmured, not waiting for an answer before he lifted her slightly and let her sink down on his cock in one smooth stroke, spreading her legs enough to take him fully inside. He groaned and bucked up into her a little when she bottomed out and she gripped his shoulders to keep her balance.

After that one involuntary movement he stayed still, apparently waiting for something. She rolled her hips experimentally, barely able to brace her feet on the chair for leverage. He rewarded her with a scorching kiss and the flex of his hands on her waist, so she did it again.

“There you go, baby,” he rasped, tearing his mouth away from hers. “Let Cas see you ride me. So fucking beautiful like this.”

The reminder about their audience had her eyes flicking over to Cas. He still sprawled indolently in the chair, but his eyes were dark and hungry and intent, his hand curled tightly around his cock, stroking slowly, picking up speed to match her rhythm as she began to move.

“Do you want me to tell you what to do, Claire?” he asked, his voice deeper and rougher than normal.

She swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, and nodded wordlessly.

“Touch your breasts,” he ordered, and his eyes darkened further as she slid her hands up her stomach to cup her breasts, lifting them like an offering, and Sam and Dean both made inarticulate noises.

“Is that what you like?” Cas asked. “Is that enough for you?”

“No,” she said quietly.

One corner of his mouth tipped up. “I didn’t think so. Play with your nipples. Show me what you like.”

She sucked in a breath and obeyed, squeezing her nipples lightly, tugging and scraping, and the sensation shot straight to her pussy, combining with the feeling of Sam’s cock, hard and thick inside her, and the grind of her clit against him. She shuddered, but didn’t stop.

“How does it feel?” Cas asked, managing to sound no more than mildly curious.

“G-good,” she gasped, moving faster.

“You should probably tell Sam,” he mused, voice still incredibly casual, “since he’s the one you’re fucking.”

She almost sobbed as she tried to make her brain form words. “Sam..shit, oh God, Sam, it feels so good. I can feel--” He covered her hands with his own; her head tipped back and she shuddered, riding him faster. “Fuck, yes, please, Sam, please don’t stop, oh, just...yes, just like that, yes, yes, fuck, yes,” and she came, shuddering, then again when Sam fucked up into her and came himself, thrusting impossibly deep.

“You liked touching yourself for us, didn’t you?” Dean said, his voice dark and intimate, pulling her gently off of Sam and bending her over the table, pushing her down to lie flat with one big hand in the small of her back. She nodded, still shivering with aftershocks, and he pushed inside her with one easy thrust. His hands circled her waist, which always made her feel strangely delicate.

And then...nothing. He stood there behind her, cock hard and throbbing inside her pussy, and did _nothing_. She started squirming against him and he tsked at her, gripping her firmly and holding her still. “Something you want, sweetheart?” he asked mock-casually. “Because if you asked for something, you’d probably get it.”

“Want you to fuck me,” she gritted out.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m not sure you really want it. What do you think, Cas? Was that convincing?”

Her head was turned toward Cas, so she could see him purse his lips in mock thoughtfulness. “I’m not entirely certain what you want, Claire. Perhaps you should provide details.”

She fought to keep her eyes open and steady on Cas, although the blush was a lost cause--she was fairly certain her entire body was faintly pink. “Please, Dean, I want you to fuck me.”

He pulled out and pushed slowly back in, inch by agonizing inch. “That what you want?”

She shuddered around him. “Harder,” she said, then twitched slightly when he smacked her ass, just barely hard enough to sting. He kept moving, his cock dragging oh, so slowly in and out of her pussy. She shook and shivered, it felt so _good_ , but it wasn’t enough.

“Dean, please, harder,” she finally begged. “Please, please fuck me harder.”

He rewarded her with faster, harder thrusts, and tightened his hands on her waist, holding her steady, and she could finally feel her orgasm building.

“You know what I want, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice still remarkably calm, only the speed of his breathing to indicate he was fucking her over a table.

She had to swallow a couple of times before she could say “What?”

“Remember the first time?” he said, and she would’ve sworn there was no way he could make his voice more intimate, but there it was. “Remember the way you begged Sammy to fuck you? I want you to do that for me. I want to hear the dirty words coming out of your pretty mouth.”

She hesitated a minute, because Cas was there, watching and listening, but Dean wanted this, and although she could feel herself blushing again, she wanted it, too. It embarrassed her on a deep, fundamental level, but she loved it, loved telling them exactly what she wanted in excruciatingly filthy detail. Knowing how it affected Sam and Dean just made it even better.

“Want you to fuck me, Dean,” she said, and was that her voice? “I love it when you fuck me, love the way it feels when you bend me over and pound that big, thick cock into my pussy. Makes me so wet when you hold me down and fuck me.”

He picked up the pace and now he was pounding into her, just like she’d asked, hammering inside her cunt with each thrust. “Keep talking,” he ground out. “Keep talking or I’ll stop.”

“Fuck yes,” she moaned, and his fingers tightened on her waist. She knew he’d wince when he saw the bruises tomorrow, cover them in kisses, but she’d smile every time she saw them, the proof that he wanted her this much, enough to forget himself, enough to leave his mark on her. “God, Dean, love your cock, love the way you fuck me, always so fucking good.”

Warm hands closed over hers, pinning her more firmly to the table, and she didn’t need to open her eyes to identify Sam’s grip. She went limp, the relief of being helpless too great to resist.

“Don’t stop,” Dean rasped, his breath coming faster and faster. “Sammy’s holding you down, now, you can’t go anywhere, can you?”

She shook her head drunkenly. “Can’t move. Love it when you hold me down, feels so good. Do anything you want to me and I can’t stop you. Makes me so…” and she screamed wordlessly as she came. Dean thrust harder, two, three times before he came, too.

When she managed to pry her eyes open, Cas was sprawled bonelessly across the chair in a way that said clearly he’d found his own release, Sam was lounging back in his own chair with a shit-eating grin on his face, and Dean’s weight was pressing her into the table.

Claire shoved herself up off the table, taking two tries to dislodge Dean, who rolled to the side with a muffled grunt of protest. Sam pulled her into his lap and she went willingly, cuddled against him.

“Well,” Cas said finally, and Claire was struck by the fact that, for the first time since she’d met him, the lines had smoothed from his face, leaving him looking relaxed and maybe even a little happy. “That was...educational.”

Before she could start to feel more than the tiniest stirrings of embarrassment, though, he had leaned over and placed a hand gently on her arm. “Thank you for sharing that with me,” he said solemnly. “I am honored that you trusted me to that extent.”

“All right, enough chick flick moments,” Dean announced, standing up and stretching hugely. “Shower time.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge, gigantic apologies for the long break between posts. This chapter has been fighting me tooth and nail; I don't usually have to completely abandon a draft and start over, but I did this time. 
> 
> Hopefully the double-length chapter with extra smut helps make it up to you. Comments and kudos always welcome; thanks so much to every one who has loved this story along with me.
> 
> For the curious, I kind of pictured Sam's initial approach in that scene to be along the lines of [this](https://38.media.tumblr.com/744ea89a07ea30b5a7c3253fb306cf5d/tumblr_mz9mb1F9xD1s5fh1po6_250.gif), because that gives me goosebumps every time I watch it.


	28. Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are planned, and Claire and Dean have a surprise for Sam.

Dean wandered into the kitchen as Claire was sliding a pan of something into the oven. “What’s up?” he asked, snagging a slice of bread from the loaf on the kitchen island.

“Stress cooking,” she said flatly. “Sam and Cas are working on finding a good angel candidate, nothing for me to do there. I was working on getting the tablet translation in the computer, but if I have to stare at a screen any longer my eyes are going to cross. So I’m making dinner. Lasagna in thirty.”

“Well, hell,” Dean said easily. “That’s what I was gonna do. Now what?”

She shrugged. “Still need to do the veggies and the garlic bread, and dessert, too. You can help if you want, but I was here first. So you know what that means.”

He raised both eyebrows. “What’s that?”

She reached over and pressed play on the iPod in the speaker dock on the counter, shooting him a smirk. “Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole.”

“Fine,” he said, unable to keep from smiling as the first guitar riff echoed through the kitchen. “What’re we doing first, boss?”

 

“Hey, something smells good,” Sam said, walking into the kitchen, Cas following at his heels.

“Perfect timing,” Claire said, pulling plates off the shelf. “Lasagna just came out of the oven.”

Sam took the plates from her and leaned down for a quick kiss. “Have I told you lately that you’re awesome?”

She grinned up at him. “You might’ve mentioned it once or twice.”

“And not just because you’re an awesome cook, either,” he said, leaning back in for another kiss.

“Hey, I helped,” Dean said, mock-offended.

She patted his cheek, eyes sparkling. “And you were a big help, dear.”

“You’re damn right I was,” he muttered, picking up the lasagna and carrying it to the table.

By unspoken mutual consent they kept the conversation light while they ate, trading funny stories and gentle teasing. It wasn’t until after the dinner plates were in the dishwasher and the pie Dean had made was reduced to crumbs that Dean cleared his throat and asked “Any luck?”

“Getting into the database wasn’t too bad,” Sam said. “We figured the first guy we ask isn’t necessarily going to say yes, so we found five potential candidates.”

“So what’s the plan?” Claire asked.  

“Sam, Dean, and I will pose as people doing…” Cas paused, turning to Sam. “What will we be doing?”

“Surveys regarding the quality of service,” Sam said. “There was that big scandal last year about people dying before they got the care they needed from the VA. Our story is that we’re from an outside firm contracted to do surveys of randomly selected patients. Garth is ready to back us up if anybody wants to confirm that we’re supposed to be there.”

“What about me?” Claire asked.

“What about you?” Dean echoed, looking puzzled.

She rolled her eyes. “Where am I going to be while you three are off conning your way into a hospital?”

“Uh, right here,” Sam said.

“Not a chance,” she said, crossing her arms. “No way am I getting left behind while you three go off and finish this without me.”

“It’s not like that,” Dean said. “You’ll be safer here.”

“So two weeks ago you didn’t want to leave me alone, but now you’re going to go traipsing off to Wichita and leave me here?”

“That was different,” Sam said, but his forehead was furrowed. “Crowley could’ve been pretending to be Cain to draw us out. He has no idea about what we’re planning now.”

“But Cas said he knows about me,” she persisted. “What if he tries to come after me while you’re gone? It’s not like I can fight off a demon by myself, especially not the king of Hell.”

Dean sighed, turning to Cas. “What, exactly, does Crowley know about her? And how did he find out, anyway?”

“Heaven...is not as secure as it once was,” Cas said hesitantly. “There is much insecurity among the remaining angels. We didn’t discover until too late that some were sharing information in ways that got back to Crowley. He knows that there is a new prophet named Claire.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Dean said.

Cas flinched a little. “I didn’t tell anyone in Heaven that she was with you, or about your relationship, but they may have assumed the first part, simply because it is well-known that I am closely connected to Sam and Dean. We should also assume that he knows she has the angel tablet. Just to be on the safe side.”

“Crowley still doesn’t know where the bunker is--” Sam said

“We  _think_ he doesn’t know where the bunker is,” Dean interrupted. “It’d be just like him to let us think that so he can keep an eye on us without us realizing.”

Sam opened his mouth, then closed it again, obviously unable to argue.

Claire spread her hands. “I’m not a hunter, guys. I can shoot, because I grew up in redneck country, but I’m a freaking librarian. If demons come after me, I’ll fight, but it’s probably not gonna do much good.”

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah, you’d better come with us. At least that way if Crowley tries something, you won’t be alone.”

 

The minute Claire walked into Dean’s room he had her pressed up against the wall, kissing her hungrily. She was vaguely aware of the door closing next to them and Sam’s presence in the room, but the majority of her attention was taken up by Dean’s tongue licking into her mouth, his teeth scraping lightly over her lip, his weight pinning her against the wall.

“Fuck,” he growled, tearing his mouth away from hers to catch her earlobe in his teeth. His stubble scraped the skin of her neck, making her shudder against him, and he grinned against her skin and used his teeth there, too. “Been wanting to do that all night. Thought about putting you up on that counter in the kitchen and licking that pretty pussy until you screamed for me. We could’ve let Sammy and Cas have a taste, too.”

“You should’ve,” Sam rumbled, crowding in behind Dean. “I bet Cas is a fast learner.”

“Some other time,” Dean promised, pulling back enough to tug her t-shirt over her head and unhooking her bra with deft fingers. “Got a surprise for you tonight, Sammy.”

“Oh, yeah?” Sam asked, quirking an eyebrow as he made quick work of her jeans and panties, despite Dean still being in the way.

Dean smirked, shifting backwards and letting Claire move away from the wall. “Show him, sweetheart.”

She turned around, bending forward slightly at the waist and bracing her hands against the wall, shivering as she felt Sam’s fingers skate lightly down her back and over the curve of her ass to touch the base of the plug that sat there.

“How long?” he asked roughly, tracing the circle of the base with his fingertips.

“Since about half an hour before you guys came in for dinner,” Dean answered, which was good, since she seemed to have lost the power of speech.

“Fuck,” Sam swore, curling his hand around her hip and pulling her back to lean against him, the flannel of his shirt brushing soft against her skin. “You ready for this, baby? Ready for both of us?”

She nodded wordlessly, anticipation coiling hot and shivery in her belly.

“Gonna make it so good for you,” he breathed in her ear, his big hands coming up to cradle her breasts, and she moaned as he played with her nipples. “We’re gonna fill you up, make you scream for us.”

She closed her eyes, her hips moving helplessly, searching for friction as his hands on her nipples built her higher and higher. She almost sobbed with relief when she felt Dean’s lips on hers.

“Shh, I got you,” he murmured against her mouth, sliding his fingers down to curl them up into her pussy. She shuddered as his thumb rubbed over her clit once, twice, three times, and she came, pressed close between them, surrounded by their heat and strength.

“Not nice to tease our girl like that, Sammy,” he chided, tugging her over to the bed and pulling her up to straddle him, sucking in a rough breath as she slid down onto his cock in one slow, smooth, glide. “C’mon, sweetheart, wanna see you ride me.”

Dean gripped her hips as she started to move, and she let her eyes close and her head fall back as she savored the hot, thick slide of him inside her pussy. He slid his hands up to her breasts, letting callused fingertips tease lightly across her nipples.

“Now who’s teasing?” she huffed out, and Sam chuckled as he climbed onto the bed behind her.

“Yeah, Dean,” he said, dropping his mouth to her shoulder. “It’s not nice to tease our girl like that.”

Dean smirked up at both of them and squeezed her nipples firmly, rolling his hips up at the perfect time to let her grind her clit against him. Her hands shot up and grabbed his wrists, fingernails digging into his forearms, and she moaned, feeling the electric sensation echoing from her nipples to her clit to where he was buried deep inside her.

“You like that, sweetheart?” he purred, his arms flexing under her hands as they moved on her breasts. “Want me to keep playing with your tits?”

Her response strangled in her throat as Sam gripped the base of the plug and pulled it out just a bit before sliding it back in. She shuddered, clenching tightly around Dean, and he groaned, too.

“Don’t mind me,” Sam said, the mildness of his tone belying the roughness of his voice and the hard press of his cock against her hip.

Dean redoubled his efforts, matching her thrust for thrust and using everything he’d learned about what she liked to reduce her to incoherent babbling, unable to string words together in in any kind of order, “please” and “more” and “don’t stop” and “Sam” and “yes” and “Dean” dropping from her mouth almost at random and she came so hard she was sobbing with it, shivering and shuddering between them.

They coaxed her down until she was pressed chest-to-chest with Dean. He kissed her, long, luxuriant, sumptuous kisses, like they had all the time in the world, like there was nothing else he’d rather be doing than kissing her, even though his dick was still hard and pulsing inside her. She heard a click and slick, wet sounds, and then Sam’s hand was firm on the small of her back, holding her in place as he used his other hand to slowly, torturously, slide the plug out.

Before she could react, she felt Sam’s cock nudging at her ass, warm, blunt pressure so unlike the smooth silicone of the plug. “Relax for me, baby,” he murmured, pushing gently but inexorably inside.

Dean kissed her again, his hands rubbing up and down her arms, and she let herself melt into his kiss, although nothing could distract her from the stretch as Sam thrust slowly into her ass, the incredible fullness of having both of them inside her.

“So gorgeous like this,” Dean said, his voice tight and his hips making tiny, abortive thrusts up into her. “Doing so good for us--” he mirrored her gasp as Sam finally stopped moving, his hips pressed tightly against her.

“You okay?” Sam asked, breath heaving out of his chest like he’d just finished running, his hands wrapped around her waist in the way that always made her feel tiny and delicate.

“I think so,” she said faintly, still trying to make sense of the sensations. She shifted her hips slightly and both men groaned.

“I’m gonna move now,” Sam said hoarsely, and he did, fucking into her with short, slow, digs of his cock. His thrusts rocked her on Dean’s cock, and he started to move, too, pressing up into her pussy. It was so _full_ , with just that edge of discomfort that sharpened the pleasure almost too intensely, and she was shaking between them, two sets of hands holding her steady.

Dean slipped one hand down between their bodies, finding her clit. “Not gonna last long, sweetheart,” he breathed.

“Me either,” Sam admitted, his fingers gripping tighter as he thrust faster and deeper. “Think you can come like this for us, baby?”

“I...maybe?” she said.

“So good,” Dean praised, his voice ragged. “Always so good for us. Feels so good. Wish we could do this forever.”  

She shuddered, feeling her orgasm building up again. Sam’s hands slid underneath her, finding her nipples, and she arched back against him.

“That’s it, baby,” he gritted out. “Want you to come for us. Want to feel you clamp down on our cocks. Want you to scream for us.”

Her breath sobbed out of her in choked out gasps as they moved in concert, Sam’s hands on her breasts, Dean’s fingers on her clit, Dean’s cock pushing in as Sam’s pulled out, and she keened in the back of her throat as she came, with both of them not far behind.

They stayed where they were for several minutes, just breathing together, warm and sated, until Dean grunted, “Next time, Sasquatch, you can be on bottom.”

She whimpered a little as Sam eased out of her ass, and he brushed a kiss across her shoulder before leaving the room for a minute. Before she could do more than wonder where he was going, he was back, tugging her gently off of Dean and cleaning her gently with a warm washcloth before turning off the light and joining them under the covers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, new chapter, sorry about delays. I hope you all understand that I loved you enough to stay up late and get this posted tonight.
> 
> [I'm on Tumblr now](http://dizzy-redhead.tumblr.com/) if anyone would like to join me in fangirling about Supernatural, the MCU, and whatever else happens across my dashboard. I might even be willing to work from prompts if anyone wants to send me some :)
> 
> As always, your comments, kudos, bookmarks, etc., feed my soul.


	29. Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam, Dean, Cas, and Claire go in search of a potential angel

Claire accepted Dean's hand, the alternative being flashing everyone in the parking lot as she slid out of the backseat of the Impala. "I still say I could've worn slacks."

Dean smirked down at her. "Yeah, but then I wouldn't get to see your ass and legs in that skirt."

She rolled her eyes at Sam and Cas, looking for sympathy, but they both shrugged. "He's got a point," Sam said, and Cas nodded, not meeting her eyes.

"Easy for you to say," she grumbled, straightening her suit jacket before taking the clipboard Sam handed her and stalking across the parking lot, cursing whoever decreed heels as standard business footwear. "You don't have to walk in these stupid things."

"Hey, I'm a simple man," Dean said easily, letting his hand rest on the small of her back to steer her around a pothole in the pavement.

"Fine," she huffed. "But after we're done here, I get to peel you out of those suits."

All three men sucked in a breath, and Dean's hand tightened in her jacket before falling reluctantly away as they climbed up the steps to the hospital doors. "You've got a deal, sweetheart," he said softly.

The receptionist at the main desk managed to look supremely unimpressed as they approached. "Can I help you?" she asked wearily, returning her gaze to whatever she was doing on the computer.

"We're here from ACSI to see Ms. Ramirez," Dean said, tapping the name badge clipped to his suit jacket. "We called yesterday."

She picked up the handset on her phone and hit a button, still without looking away from her monitor. "Ms. Ramirez? You have some people here from ACSI? Yeah? Okay." She hung up. "You can have a seat over there. She'll be out in a minute."

They settled obediently in the indicated seats.

"Is she just busy, or terminally rude?" Claire wondered under her breath.

"Candy Crush," Cas said, equally softly.

Claire snorted out a laugh. "Really?"

"She had almost reached level 173," he answered, his neutral expression belying the amusement dancing in his eyes.

Before she could reply, Dean bumped her shoulder with his as he stood, muttering "Showtime" and nodding toward the tired-looking woman striding briskly toward them.

"I'm Alma Ramirez," she said, extending her hand to shake Dean's.

"Dean Rogers," he said, returning the handshake. "My team: Sam Parker, Claire Barton, and Cass Wilson."

"I'm still not entirely certain why this is necessary," Ms. Ramirez said. "We've provided all of the data ASCI has asked for; it's automatically uploaded each month. I don't want to disturb our patients any more than necessary."

Claire felt Dean tense beside her and decided to head him off. "We've been asked to use a combined approach. The first part is the quantitative analysis of the data that you send, but we're also conducting qualitative research, including observations and interviews with randomly selected patients, which is what we're doing here today."

Ms. Ramirez's eyes narrowed slightly as she turned her gaze on Claire, who returned it as blandly as possible. "You have the names?" she asked finally.

Claire handed over the list from her clipboard.

"Only five?" Ms. Ramirez said.

"Only five here. We're looking to get a feel for the VA system as a whole, so we or other members of our team will be conducting interviews at every facility nationwide. We will, of course, be respectful of the patients' health needs and any instructions from their nurses or doctors."

"Very well," Ms. Ramirez said. "I'll take you--"

"Actually, we'll need to speak to the patients without any hospital staff present,” Claire interrupted, her tone pleasant but firm. “In order to ensure that there’s no question of the impartiality of the interview results, of course.”

Ms. Ramirez’s mouth thinned as she pressed her lips together, and now there was no question but that she was glaring. Claire kept her mouth curved in the same polite, meaningless half-smile, her body language relaxed and open.

“Fine,” Ms. Ramirez said, biting off her words. “Patient rooms are on the second and third floors in the east wing. Would you like someone to show you where to find them?”

“No need to put yourself out,” Dean said smoothly. “I’m sure we can follow the signs.”

She nodded tersely. “If you need any further information, the receptionist will be able to find me. If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

Ms. Ramirez turned on her heel and returned the way she’d come, every line of her body screaming irritation.

“Looks like patient rooms are this way,” Sam said, gesturing toward the sign posted by a doorway. “Shall we?”

Dean shrugged his shoulders once to resettle his suit jacket and led the way. “Let’s go.” He waited until they were in the stairwell before adding “Nice work, Claire. I didn’t think she was gonna go for it.”

She shrugged, trying to brush it off. “Two graduate degrees gave me a lot of time to learn to deal with politics. I don’t like it, which is why I never took a permanent position, but I can play the game when I have to.”

“You still did great,” Sam said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders for a minute. “Most people have trouble with this kind of thing. They get nervous, think people are going to figure out the truth.”

“Should’ve seen Cas the first time we took him out on a case,” Dean agreed. “He couldn’t even hold his badge right side up.”

“In my defense, angels are not supposed to lie,” Cas interjected. “I was very uncomfortable with the concept. I’ve grown more...flexible since then.”

Claire shrugged. “I’m not the most confident person, but I’ve spent a lot of time acting like I am. I guess it carries over.”

Dean pulled open the door from the stairwell onto the patient floor. “Well, keep it up, ‘cause here we go.”

  
The door to room 239 was open, so Dean tapped lightly on the frame and they waited in the hall until a voice from inside called “Come in!”

“Staff Sergeant James Kaiser?” Sam asked, consulting his clipboard.

“That’s me.”  
The man in the bed had obviously been stocky and solidly built at some point in his life, but now his deep voice seemed bigger than he did, his skin pale and translucent over the bones that jutted against it.

“Staff Sergeant, we’re from ASCI and we’re doing surveys with randomly selected patients regarding the quality of their care,” Sam explained. “Is it okay if we ask you a few questions?”

“Sure thing,” he said, shrugging good-naturedly. “Not like I’m going anywhere anytime soon, and you guys are the most entertainment to show up all week. Maybe all month.”

Claire flipped to the “survey questions” sheet on her clipboard. “Some of these may seem a bit odd, Staff Sergeant” she cautioned, glancing up at him. “Some of the questions will be regarding your care, others will be to determine your basic personality, what your general outlook on life is, that sort of thing. It helps us notice bias in the answers we receive.”

“Ask away,” he said. “I’ve got nothing to do until my next chemo treatment except watch soap opera reruns.”

Claire skimmed through the dummy questions about the quality of care fairly quickly, the staff sergeant (“call me Jim”) giving the expected responses. By the time he answered the third of the real questions, though, she could tell even without Cas’s little head shake that the man was not a viable option for what Dean insisted on calling “angelification.” Jim was visibly weary, although he put a good face on it. He deserved Heaven, deserved a chance to rest instead of being thrust immediately into another battle.They finished their questions, thanked Jim for his time, and slipped quietly out the door

The next three patients were the same story; no matter what they suffered from, all of them were tired, struggling against an enemy they couldn’t hope to defeat. They were fighters, all of them, but fighters in desperate need of time to recover before facing another enemy. By the time they located the last room, Claire could see defeat written in the slump of Sam’s shoulders, the furrows in Cas’s forehead, the way Dean rubbed at the Mark unconsciously.

The woman in the fifth room looked tired, too, her eyes closed, face swollen, and breathing shallow. “Lieutenant Amanda Daniels?” Claire asked softly.

The woman’s eyes opened, a rich brown that echoed the warmth of her skin. “What can I do for you?”

Claire went through their spiel again, trying not to get too excited. But as she started the questions, she could sense her hope echoed in each of the men. Lieutenant Daniels, (“Amanda,” she’d insisted, “You’re not military, and it’s not like I’m commanding a whole hell of a lot from in here”), despite obvious fatigue, practically shone with a fierce life.

When she came to the end of the questions they’d asked the first four people, Claire glanced over at Cas. He sucked in a deep breath and nodded for her to continue.

When she looked back at Amanda, her dark eyes had narrowed in thought. “What’s this really about?” she asked.

“You’re probably going to think we’re crazy,” Claire said slowly. “Remember the question where we asked if you believed in angels?”

“Yeah…”

Claire hesitated for a minute, unsure of how to continue, and Cas stepped up to her side. “I am an angel of the Lord,” he said, his voice quiet but sure. “You are dying.”

It wasn’t a question, but Amanda nodded anyway. “Kidney failure from lupus. Can’t give me a new kidney because my body would attack it, and the dialysis isn’t working. All they can do is make me ‘as comfortable as possible.’”

“I no longer have the power it would require to heal you,” Cas admitted. “But, if you consent, I may have enough power to make you an angel.”

“‘May,’” she repeated, cocking her head to the side. “You’re not sure?”

“I’ve never done this before,” he said evenly. “It will require all of my remaining Grace.”

“So what happens if it doesn’t work?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I’m not certain. You may be unchanged aside from a small amount of additional energy. You may die.”

“What happens to _you_ if it doesn’t work?” she persisted.

“Again, I’m not certain,” he said. “The most likely outcome is that, without my Grace inhabiting this body, I will die. Or I might still be here, still in this body, but mortal. Human.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “And if it does work?”

“Then you will be an angel.” He hesitated for a moment before continuing. “I imagine that it will be much like being in the military for you. There will be orders. Some will make sense, some will not.”

She pursed her lips in thought, staring into the distance for long moments. Finally she looked up at Cas and nodded, sharp and decisive. “Let’s do this.”

“You’re sure?” he asked.

She laughed harshly. “Got no family left anymore. You think I should sit around here waiting to die? Waiting until the drugs don’t work anymore and I’m begging them to let me go? Fuck that. If I die from this, at least I’ll go quick. If not, I’ll be a soldier again.” Her voice softened. “There are worse things to be. Much worse.”

Cas nodded back, blue eyes meeting brown. “Close your eyes,” he ordered, and pressed two fingers to her forehead.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So first off, yes those last names they used are Marvel references. I figured they've run through a lot of classic rock musicians, but they used Stark and Banner that one time. Giving Dean the last name Rogers was at least partially inspired by [this picture](http://dirtysupernaturalimagines.tumblr.com/post/107910871608/source-google-image-search-jensen-ackles)
> 
> Sorry about the cliffhanger; I'll get more up as soon as I can!!!
> 
> For those who are new to the story, welcome! Your kudos, comments, bookmarks and subscribes feed my soul and keep me motivated. I'm [on Tumblr](http://dizzy-redhead.tumblr.com/), where I blog lots of Supernatural and MCU fangirliness, along with other things. If there's a delay in updating this fic, I will try to post some updates there.


	30. Not Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The...well _a_ moment of truth

Castiel’s eyes glowed unearthly blue and his Grace radiated out from him, funnelling through the touch of his fingers and into Amanda, who was soon glowing almost as brightly. Claire and Sam had closed their eyes, wrapping their arms around their heads, Sam sheltering Claire with his body. That left Dean free to set one hand against Cas’s back, bracing both of them against the power that was a physical pressure in the air.

“Dean,” Cas gritted out, never taking his eyes off Amanda. “Cover your eyes.”

“I stared Zachariah in the face when he died,” Dean said flatly, ignoring the way all the air in the room was starting to vibrate to one implacable frequency. “I’ll be okay.”

“You don’t know that,” Cas said. “ _Please_ , Dean.”

Dean sighed, bringing up his free arm to shield his eyes. “Fine. But I’m not leaving you.”

Even with his eyes closed and his arm covering them, the light grew so bright as to make his eyes water, glowing redly through closed lids. He didn’t need to be able to see to feel what was happening, a sense of hushed anticipation growing, winding the tension in the room tighter and tighter until it finally, finally broke, light so bright that everything completely whited out, the air ringing like the world’s largest bell, everything tuned to the same impossible frequency.

For one breathless moment everything was still, the calm in the eye of the storm, then Dean felt Cas sag against his hand and managed, somehow, even though he still couldn’t see much, to catch him and ease him down before he collapsed to the floor.

When Dean’s vision finally cleared he had to bite his tongue to hold back the curses that wanted to explode out, because Cas...Cas looked like shit, more broken than Dean had ever seen him. Breath bubbled weakly out of his mouth, frothing red with his blood, and shit, if those two things didn’t shout “human!”, then nothing did.

“Shit, Cas,” was what he finally managed to say, and he was barely able to manage that over the way the Mark was singing in his blood at the realization of how weak Cas was, how easy it would be to just--

“Dean,” Cas said, a faint echo of his usual rasp, but enough to snap him out of that spiral. “It’s okay. We knew this might happen.”

“Fuck, no, it’s not okay!” Dean yelled, and not even feeling Sam and Claire behind him was enough to make him stop. Sam’s hand landed on his right shoulder, Claire’s on the left, but he couldn’t look away from Cas, bloody and battered on the floor. “There is no possible scenario where this is okay!!!”

“Dean,” Cas chided gently. “How many times have I survived something that should have killed me? This was my choice. I would make it again if there was a chance that it would save you.”

And before Dean could process that, could argue that it’s not worth it, that he’s not worth it, Cas convulsed, back arching up off the floor. For a second Dean thought this was it, that Cas was really, truly dead and he didn’t even get to say a real goodbye, just spent the last moments arguing about stupid shit, and then Sam and Claire both yelled “Close your eyes!” at the exact same fucking moment and Dean did just before they were all three knocked off their feet by an explosion of light and sound. It was like being at the heart of a nuclear blast, but for that impossible, endless second, Dean could feel something vast and soft and warm curling around him, sheltering him from whatever was raging outside.

When they opened their eyes, Sam, Claire, and Dean were standing in the library in the bunker, staring blankly at each other.

“So…” Sam said hesitantly. “I guess it worked?”

“Probably? Fuck if I know,” Dean said, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck.

They fell silent for a minute before Dean yelled “Shit! The car!” and took off at a breakneck pace for the garage. He skidded to a halt in front of the Impala, sitting serenely in its parking space as if it had never left, and heaved a sigh of relief, giving in to the need to run his hands over the hood, make sure everything was okay, even though he could practically hear Sam’s eyes rolling behind him.

Once he’d established that his car was fine, in perfect shape, he moved back to where Claire stood tucked under Sam’s arm and slipped his own arm around her waist, allowing himself to be led back toward the living areas.

“So, what now?” Claire asked as they came into the library.

“Now...we wait,” Sam answered.

“Well, if we’re waiting anyway,” Dean smirked, “I believe someone said something about peeling us out of these suits?”

Claire turned to face him, backing him into a table. “I did, didn’t I? But I think I’ve changed my mind.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean managed, swallowing as she ran her hands up and down the lapels of his jacket before sinking to her knees.

She smiled up at him as she undid his belt. “Yeah, I think I’d like you to keep the suit on for a little while longer.”

He heard Sam settling into a chair off to the side, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Claire as she undid the button on his slacks and carefully pulled down the zipper, easing the fabric away from where it tented over his erection. She tugged the front of his boxers down gently and he felt his knees go weak as she closed her mouth over his cock, sliding her lips slowly, slowly down until he was entirely surrounded by wet heat.

“Jesus fuck,” he swore, one hand coming up to thread through her hair, the other gripping the edge of the table.

She hummed slightly around him, and he sucked in a breath. “I think she likes the suits, Sammy,” he said, his voice rasping out.

Sam chuckled softly from where he sat sprawled in his chair, jacket off, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up. “I think you might be right.”

Claire hummed pointedly, swirling her tongue around his cock and swallowing, and Dean barely controlled the urge to push deeper into her mouth, sagging back further against the table instead.

“You keep that up, I’m not gonna last long,” he warned, and her eyes sparkled as she looked up at him and redoubled her efforts.

“Fine, sweetheart, if that’s the way you want it,” he said. She licked and sucked and swallowed and, true to his word, a few short minutes later his hand tightened in her hair as he came, thrusting just slightly into her mouth.

Claire kept licking and sucking until he shuddered and jerked away, barely able to stand the feeling of her lips and tongue on the over-sensitized skin of his cock. He tugged her up to her feet and into a long, deep kiss. Finally, reluctantly, he pulled back. “I think Sammy might be feeling a little neglected,” he murmured into her ear. “You gonna take care of him, too?”

She nodded, turning towards Sam, but when she would have knelt in front of him, he shook his head. “I’ve got other plans for you, baby. Not that I don’t love it when you wrap that pretty mouth around my cock, but right now I want you to bend over and put your hands on the table.”

She did as he said, turning her head so she could watch him, which meant she saw him pull his tie off in one smooth, almost menacing motion. She couldn’t stop the shudder that ran through her body at the sight, transfixed by the intensity in his eyes and imagining what he planned to do with the tie.

“Hands together,” he ordered, and she obeyed, dropping onto her elbows and pressing her palms together. He circled the table and knotted one end of the tie around her wrists, securing the other to a table leg.

“Now then,” he murmured, moving back behind her and running a proprietary hand down her back before finding the size zipper on her skirt and tugging it down before letting the skirt fall to the floor. He made an appreciative noise when he saw the lace-topped stockings and garter belt she’d been wearing underneath.

“Holy shit,” Dean swore from where he still leaned against the table, his voice low and reverent. “If I’d known you were wearing those, we might not have ever made it to the hospital.”

“You were planning on us finding out eventually, weren’t you, baby?” Sam asked, running his fingers over the waistband of the panties she’d put on _after_ the garter belt.

She nodded. “Only good part of wearing this stupid shit was that you guys like the way I look in it.”

“Oh, we do,” Sam purred, pulling her panties down her legs, careful not to catch them on the high heels of her shoes. “Ever since you walked out in those heels I’ve been imagining bending you over and fucking you.”

He pushed two thick fingers easily inside her pussy. “You’re all ready for me, aren’t you baby?” he asked. “Did it make you wet, sucking Dean’s cock?”

She nodded wordlessly, groaning as he withdrew his fingers and replaced them with his cock, slipping inside her in one long, ruthless thrust. He braced his hands on the table on either side of her as he started to move, fucking her in long, deep strokes.

“I’m not gonna last long either,” he said, never pausing. “It was hot as hell, seeing you down on your knees, sucking Dean’s cock. You did such a good job, took such good care of him. Now I’m gonna take care of you.”

True to his word, he slipped a hand around her hip to find her clit. Between his fingers on her clit and his strong, steady thrusts and the endless, filthy litany of praises and endearments, it wasn’t much longer before she was shaking underneath him with the force of her orgasm, and he pushed deeper inside her and came as well.

They lay draped across the table for several long, breathless minutes before Sam stirred reluctantly and pushed himself up. He reached over to untie her hands but Dean was already there, rubbing her wrists to be sure they weren’t hurt.

“If I was five years younger,” Dean said mournfully, “I’d be ready for another round. As it is, I’m thinking nap.”

Claire had just opened her mouth to make a smartass replay when there was a faint rustling sound and Cas was standing there, looking very put out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter was posted right at the beginning of seven straight days of work. This is not something that comes up in the schedule very often, fortunately, but it kicked. my. ass. I apologize for the lateness of this update. I beg forgiveness in the form of somewhat related images.
> 
> First off, can anyone not sympathize with Claire's desire to peel Sam and Dean out of their suits? If such a crazy person exists, I would direct them to [Exhibit A](http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VH2TqarcMMI/SqqOKfIh9MI/AAAAAAAAAMk/8daWpTcJ1ks/s1600-h/dean+sam+suits.jpg).
> 
> Secondly, I imagine everyone knows where I got the idea for the whole Sam/tie thing, but just in case you've been living under a rock (or forgotten this particular scene) [let me refresh your memory](https://38.media.tumblr.com/e0ee59f8a240f683de8012bd58641ce2/tumblr_mkyd784nPy1ryev42o4_500.gif)
> 
> As always, you are welcome to send me requests/prompts/gripes, etc., on [Tumblr](http://dizzy-redhead.tumblr.com/), or just follow me for various and sundry Supernatural, MCU, LOTR, and other fandom love (plus the occasional feminist rant or other topic).


	31. May I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Castiel, in the library, on the table. 
> 
> (I suck at writing these things)

"You may find it interesting," Cas said, sharp gaze taking in the three of them, "to know that apparently the archangel-prophet connection happens automatically."

"So you're Claire's archangel?" Dean asked.

Cas nodded, sliding his trenchcoat off and draping it over the back of a chair, then repeating the process with his suit jacket. "Ever since I was changed, some part of my mind is always aware of what's happening to her. It's much like a security camera feed. Remarkably...visual."

Claire flushed, suddenly very aware that she was perched on a table without a skirt or underwear. Sam and Dean wore identical smug smirks. "Enjoy the show, Cas?" Sam asked wickedly.

Cas stalked toward the table, every movement predatory. "It was...very educational." His eyes were dark and intense as he stopped in front of Claire, so close that the smooth fabric of his slacks brushed against her stockings, catching slightly on the clasps of the garter belt.

He dropped his gaze to the jacket she still wore, then looked back up to meet her eyes. "May I?"

She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dust-dry, and looked over at Dean. He shrugged, settling back in his chair. "Up to you, sweetheart. Not going to tell you what to do here."

Sam nodded when she glanced at him, sinking into a chair of his own. "Your decision."

Cas's fingers rested lightly on her arm, bringing her attention back to him. "I don't wish to pressure you," he said gently. "If this is not something you want, I understand."

She caught his hand as he started to back away. "I want to," she said firmly, forcing herself to meet his eyes, to make sure he understood. "I want you. But when you're in a relationship, you don't make decisions that affect the relationship without checking with everyone first."

He nodded, his eyes softening, and it was only when he relaxed that she realized how tense he had been, the way he'd been bracing himself for rejection since his arrival. He took a half-step closer and lifted his free hand to her face, leaning closer. "May I?" he asked again, waiting for her nod before he closed the distance and kissed her.

She would've expected him to be hesitant, a little uncertain, but he kissed her like he'd done it a thousand times, the hand on her face sliding around to thread through her hair and hold her in place, exploring her mouth with lips and tongue and teeth until she was shivering against him. The hand that wasn't holding his slid up his chest, fisting in his suit jacket when he caught her lower lip gently between his teeth as he pulled away.

She whimpered a little when he accidentally pulled her hair as he slid his hand free and his eyes sharpened. “Later,” he murmured, unbuttoning her jacket and removing it and the lace-trimmed camisole she wore underneath. He hesitated for a moment over her bra, skimming his fingers over the edge where fabric met skin and smiling a little when she shuddered.

“I can--” she started to say, lifting her arms behind her, but Cas was shaking his head.

“No, leave it on. I like seeing you like this,” he said in that remarkably matter-of-fact tone that had a jittery warmth curling in her belly. “You look like a picture from one of Dean’s magazines, but better. Because I can touch you--” his fingertips skimmed across a nipple “--and smell you--” he leaned in until his lips were almost touching her neck and inhaled “--and taste you--” he sucked gently on the side of her neck, smiling against her skin when she moaned underneath him “--and hear you.”

“Damn, Cas,” Dean muttered, shifting in his chair. “Thought we might have to give you some pointers, but I guess you know what you’re doing, huh?”

Cas smiled over his shoulder at Dean while he let his hands ghost up Claire’s inner thighs. “I’ve had several years to observe you, Dean. Did you think I hadn’t learned anything?”

Cas turned back toward her without waiting for a response and his hand went from teasing, barely-there touches to a firm stroke up her center, opening her to his touch and slipping two fingers inside her pussy, smooth and slick and messy. Claire gasped, letting her head fall back.

"Ah," Cas said, adding a third finger and smirking a little as she made an inarticulate noise. "Talk to me, Claire. How does that feel?"

She panted a little, trying to engage the part of her brain that managed things like words. "Good."

He tsked a little, curling his fingers inside of her until he found the spot that made her writhe. "You can do better than that, Claire."

She did her best to work up a good glare (surprisingly hard to do when his fingertips kept stroking insistently inside her). "You're--ah!--entirely too good at this."

"Told you he'd be a fast learner," Sam said from where he sprawled, all arms and legs overflowing his chair.

"You still haven't answered my question," Cas said mildly, pulling her attention back to him. "How does it feel?"

"It feels amazing," she said honestly. "I love the way it feels when your fingers are stretching me. I'm--oh, God--I'm going to come soon if you keep that up."

"Thank you," he said politely, like he didn't have most of one hand buried deep inside her pussy. "What if I do this, too?" He reached up with his thumb to stroke her clit, unerringly finding the spot that made her legs tremble, and all the while his fingers kept moving inside her.

"That--" she swallowed down a moan "--that'll make me come even sooner."

"Good," he said firmly, sliding the fingers of his free hand through her hair to cup the back of her head and pulling her up to kiss her again, only pulling away when she was gasping and moaning into his mouth. He tightened his fingers in her hair, tugging gently, and sparks of sensation danced over her scalp and shivered down her spine, making her moan even louder. The feeling of his hands on her and inside her was almost too intense and she writhed against him, her body unable to decide if it wanted to get closer or pull away.

"Come for me, Claire," he rasped. "I want to see you."

She shuddered and came, unable to deny the absolute authority in his voice. He kept his fingers moving inside her, his thumb rubbing her clit, fucking her through it until she was so sensitive it hurt and she gasped, "Cas, stop, please, stop."

He froze immediately, looking worried. "It's okay, man," Dean reassured him while she was still trying to draw a full breath. "Claire just gets really sensitive after she comes, don't you, sweetheart?"

She nodded. Her heart rate was starting to come back down to something approaching normal, but she felt it spike again when he leaned in and murmured, "I would really like to fuck you, Claire. May I?"

She nodded again, and he pulled his fingers gently out, bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean. "You taste so good," he said softly, and she mustered up enough energy to grab his tie and tug him down for another kiss. She could taste herself and Sam and Dean in his mouth, their flavors mingled with his.

His hands slid down her back and curved over her ass, pulling her in until she was grinding against him. She could feel the hard, thick line of his cock pressing against her through the fabric of his slacks, and he groaned into her mouth, thrusting his hips forward. Finally, reluctantly, he pulled away enough to unbutton and unzip his pants, pulling his cock free.

“Are you ready?” he asked softly.

Claire couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Yeah, Cas, I’m ready. Come fuck me.”

He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath before opening them again and obeying, pressing slowly and steadily inside her, his eyes never leaving hers, never stopping until he was completely buried inside her.

He leaned down to kiss her, his hips making tiny, helpless, shuddering little thrusts. “I...I don’t think I’m going to last very long. It...you feel amazing, Claire.”

She smoothed her hands over his shoulders. “It’s okay, Cas. It’s not a contest.”

“But I--” he sucked in a breath, starting to move “--I want you to enjoy yourself, too.”

“I am. I will,” she reassured him.

“Still,” he mused, seeming to regain some of his earlier attitude, despite his deepening thrusts inside her, “perhaps I should make sure. Give me your hands, Claire.”

She obeyed, a little stunned at the return of that authoritative snap in his tone. He pressed her hands into the table, trapping them under his, never pausing in his slow, steady fucking. “Is that what you like?” he asked. “You like being held down?”

She nodded wordlessly, her mouth suddenly dust-dry.

One corner of his mouth tipped up in that damn smirk that she suddenly realized he’d learned from Dean. “Talk to me, Claire.”

“I like--I really like it when you hold me down while you fuck me,” she said, trying to goad him into moving faster. “Please don’t stop, Cas.”

His breathing and his movements both sped up as she talked, and she was feeling a little smug until he pushed her gently down to lie flat on the table, pulling her arms overhead and pinning them there. At first she thought he was holding her wrists with one hand, as the other one slid down over her hip, urging her leg up to wrap around him, and she moaned at the change in angle as he pushed even deeper inside her. But then he was gripping her hips with his other hand, driving into her, and her wrists were still restrained above her head, a warm, comforting touch pinning them to the table. Before she could think too hard about it, he was sliding a hand down between them to stroke her clit and she was coming again, shaking under him as he made a few final movements and buried himself deep inside of her, groaning out her name as he came.

When Claire’s breathing had slowed back to something approaching normal, she twisted her head around to see what was holding her hands down. The answer was...nothing. To all appearances, she was just pressing her own wrists against the table, nothing more substantial than air around them, but she couldn’t move them.

“Cas? A little help?” she asked.

“Huh?” he said, lifting his head from where it had been resting between her breasts. “Oh, sorry.” He flushed and suddenly her arms came free.

“Using your archangel powers for kinky sex,” Dean said, mock-sniffling. “I’m so proud. You’re definitely part of this family.”

Dean’s chair suddenly scooted back out from under him, dumping him unceremoniously on his ass, where he sat, looking injured, as Sam and Claire burst out laughing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I wasn't really planning to bring Cas in on the whole Claire thing, but these characters, man. They're stubborn. This chapter was going to be a little smut and then some plot. 1800 words of smut later...
> 
> Plot is coming, I swear. Maybe this is just my brain's way of putting off the inevitable. I've been amazed and humbled by the great responses to this fic (your comments/kudos/bookmarks feed my soul!), and I'm sad to see the end in sight. At this point we've got 1, maybe 2 chapters left, and possibly a smutty/fluffy epilogue.
> 
> Feel free to send me requests/prompts/gripes, etc., on [Tumblr](dizzy-redhead.tumblr.com), or just follow me for various and sundry Supernatural, MCU, LOTR, and other fandom love (plus the occasional feminist rant or other topic).


	32. Yes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Castiel attempt to remove the Mark
> 
> Trigger warning: contains a scene where a character has a panic attack. I have never had a severe panic attack, so I'm not sure how realistic my depiction is, but please consider your own mental health while reading.

Sam woke with a scream choked in his throat, shaking in the dark. He didn't realize how tightly his hands were clutching Claire until she twisted in his grip, murmuring something unintelligible in her sleep.

He forced his hands to loosen, warmth blooming in his chest when, instead of pulling away, she snuggled closer, pillowing her head on his shoulder.  He curled his arm around her, gently this time, and took slow, measured breaths, in through his nose, out through his mouth, trying to calm his racing heartbeat.

It didn't take much thought to realize why he was dreaming of Detroit, the memories of Lucifer possessing him, of being a helpless passenger in his own body as clear and vivid as the day it happened. Of watching through his own eyes, seeing Lucifer use his hands to kill, to beat and bloody his brother, and being unable to do anything but scream in helpless horror.

And tomorrow--he turned his head to check the time; the clock on the bedside table said 3:09--scratch that, later today, he was going to do it again. He was going to give an archangel permission to take over his body, push him aside and wear him like a puppet.

He knew it was different this time. Cas might've gotten turbocharged, but he was no Lucifer. He trusted Cas--they all did. He knew Cas would do exactly what they'd agreed on, would only stay exactly as long as was needed to remove the Mark. He _knew_ there was no way Dean would've agreed to this if it was anyone other than Cas, knew he would've borne the Mark forever rather than willingly let Sam be possessed again.

But all of that was surface knowledge, purely intellectual. It did nothing to calm his panicking heart, to soothe the dry-mouthed panic that had his hands shaking with tiny, almost imperceptible tremors.

Sam breathed slowly and evenly and stared into the dark.

 

They convened in the dungeon, all of them agreeing that it was the place in the bunker most likely to contain any unexpected fallout from the ritual.

"Claire, are you certain you shouldn't--" Cas began, closing his mouth with a snap when Dean's hand landed on his shoulder and Sam made frantic slashing motions across his throat.

"Dude, you think we haven't already had this conversation?" Dean snorted.

"Is there any reason to believe I'll be in danger if I'm in the room?" Claire demanded.

Cas clearly wanted to say yes. "No," he admitted.

"I'm the one who translated the goddamn tablet," she said, crossing her arms. "If I was wrong, if this goes wrong, it's on me. I'm staying."

Dean pulled her into his arms. "Hey, it's gonna be okay. We've got the only prophet on earth and the only archangel in heaven on our side."

Sam watched the three of them, wishing he could think of something to say, some way to reassure them, but it was taking everything he had to keep his breathing even, to keep his hands still at his sides.

He jumped as Claire slipped her hand into his. "Your hand is freezing," she said under her breath, forehead furrowed. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine," he insisted, keeping his voice equally low. "Just...some bad memories."

Her eyes softened and she moved closer, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head under his chin. After a few moments he realized he was breathing with her, their chests rising and falling in sync. The panic was still there, but it wasn't squeezing down on him, forcing the air out of his lungs.

"Sam? Are you ready?" Cas asked. He and Dean moved to bracket Sam, standing so that they each formed one point of a triangle.

Sam nodded, forcing his hands to drop, let Claire pull back. She squeezed gently before she let go, leaving him cold where her warmth had been pressed up against him. Sam picked up the Blade from where it had been sitting on one of the shelves, unwrapping it and pretending not to notice the hunger in Dean's eyes when he saw it, the way his hands trembled just a little.

“Sam,” Cas said softly. “Do I have your permission?”

Sam opened his mouth to say yes, and he froze. His throat locked up, his voice refused to work. He saw Cas’s eyes soften, saw realization dawn on Dean’s face, and felt a hot flush of shame sweep through him.

“It’s okay, Sammy,” Dean started to say. “We can wait, we don’t have to do it now--” and Sam shook his head, unable to say that yes, yes they did, because who knew how long they had, who knew how much damage the Mark had already done, and if they waited however long to try again, he’d be a gibbering mess thinking about it, dreading it.

Cas flinched as he thought the last thing, and Sam shook his head again, helpless to explain. Claire’s arms slid around him from behind, her warmth pressed up against his back, and he felt himself breathing deeper, mimicking the patterns of her breath. He closed his eyes for a minute, grounding himself. _This is real. This is now. This is for Dean._

He opened his eyes, met Cas’s worried ones, and said, simply, “Yes.”

Cas nodded once, never looking away, and said, “Everyone close your eyes.”

In some ways it was like being back in that hospital room again, the blinding light shining even through closed eyelids. In some horrible ways it was like being back in Detroit. But this time there wasn’t the crushing pressure as Lucifer swept in and took control. Cas was there, closer than he’d ever been, but it was Sam who opened his/their eyes, Sam who tightened his/their grip on the Blade.

 _Together,_ Cas said in his mind. _And quickly. Dean and Claire would be extremely angry with me if I damaged you._ In a quieter mental “voice” he added, _but not as angry as I would be with myself._

When Sam lifted his eyes to look at Dean, he sucked in a breath. The Mark pulsed a dark, angry red, veins of black radiating out from it, seeping through Dean’s body.

 _Could you always see this?_ he asked Cas silently.

 _Not always,_ the angel answered sadly. _As my Grace faded, I became less and less able to perceive the extent of the corruption. I am amazed that he fought it back for as long as he has._

Sam grinned.  _Dean always was stubborn._ He reached for Dean’s Marked arm with the hand not holding the Blade.  _Now what?_

He watched, fascinated, as Cas’s mind gave a little  _twist_ and power flowed down his/their arm, making the Blade glow a bright, shining white.  _You should warn Dean. This will be...uncomfortable._

He nodded. “Cas says this is gonna hurt like a sonofabitch,” he translated, feeling the angel’s amusement at his word choice as if it were his own. Dean looked surprised, but nodded acceptance back, visibly bracing himself in a way that was infinitely familiar from every wound he’d ever disinfected or stitched up, every little bit of physical brokenness he’d been allowed to tend, every time he’d been able to return to Dean just a little of the years of care and love that he’d always made sure Sam had.

_May I?_ Cas asked, and he agreed mentally, allowing Cas to control the arm holding the Blade. Without ceremony, he laid the glowing weapon flat on top of the Mark.

Dean flinched, gasping in a breath and starting to breathe shallowly, obviously fighting back pain. Sam watched in horrified fascination as the white of Cas’s power chased the dark, bleeding veins through Dean’s body, scouring them clean.

Dean started to whimper and shake, and Sam felt Claire shudder where she was still pressed to his back. _Maybe..._ he started, not sure what he was going to say, but felt Cas’s negation as clearly as if he’d seen him shake his head.

 _If we leave even the slightest thread, the Mark will remain,_ Cas said sadly, holding the Blade and Dean’s arm in an implacable grip. _We would have to force him through this torture again. It has to end. Now._

Sam closed his eyes when Dean started to scream.

An eternity later, Cas said, _It is done._

Sam opened his eyes reluctantly, unsure of what he’d see. Admittedly, he’d seen Dean looking worse. However, considering that at the time he’d been in a coma and about to die, that wasn’t terribly reassuring.

_He will recover,_ Cas said, and that was reassuring. _If I stay much longer, I will damage you permanently._

_Yeah, that would be bad,_ Sam agreed.  _Uh, sorry for, you know, the whole freak-out there at the beginning._

_If I had been Lucifer’s vessel, no force on Earth or in Heaven could convince me to submit to possession again,_ Cas said soberly.  _You are one of the bravest men I know and I am proud to call myself a part of your family._

Before the embarrassment of that could properly set in, Sam heard his voice say “Close your eyes” and felt Cas’s presence flowing away.

Cas’s gravelly voice asking “How do you feel, Dean?” made him open his eyes again.

“Like a vampire nest used me for a chew toy and then tossed me to a werewolf to finish me off,” Dean rasped. “Is it really gone?”

“It’s gone,” Cas confirmed.

Dean sagged into a surprised Cas, who managed to support him for a moment, and then Sam and Claire were there to help, but somehow they all ended up sitting tangled together in a pile on the dungeon floor, relief so thick in the air they almost choked on it.

“It’s gone,” Dean repeated, his voice cracking. “It’s gone.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, this chapter practically wrote itself, so you get another update quickly, yay! I'm going to do an epilogue/wrap-up chapter, and that's going to be it.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who's come with me on this journey. When I had a smutty little Supernatural fantasy I couldn't get out of my head without writing it down, I never imagined that it would turn into a 60k+ story. This is the longest thing I've ever written, and definitely the longest I've ever finished. To everyone who commented, subscribed, bookmarked, and left kudos, you kept me going when I got stuck. I might have given up if it was just for me, but I wanted to keep going for all of you.
> 
> I have some vague ideas of a follow-up fic to this one, so feel free to subscribe to me or follow me on [Tumblr](http://dizzy-redhead.tumblr.com) if you're interested.


	33. Epilogue Part 1 of 2: The Smut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of a 2-part epilogue. This is the smutty bit.

When they finally tried to stand up, it quickly became apparent that archangel-powered rituals left the participants weak-kneed, exhausted, and slightly dizzy, especially archangels who insisted on remaining embodied. If they hadn't been so wrung out it would've been hilarious watching them attempt to prop each other up as they staggered out of the dungeon. They only ran into walls a couple of times (okay, five).

Claire managed to shepherd them all into her room, thanking whatever higher power cared to listen (“You’re welcome,” Cas muttered, “but I really had nothing to do with it”) that they’d finally gotten her king-size bed moved into the bunker. It was totally worth all the cursing and Dean’s attempt to ride the mattress down the stairs to have a bed with enough room for three above-average height men.

She got them each to drink a few sips of water before Sam tugged her down between himself and Dean, cuddling her close. “You okay?” she asked softly, and felt Dean tense behind her, waiting for the answer.

“I am now,” he answered. “But next time somebody has to get possessed, it’s Dean’s turn. Between Lucifer, Gadreel, and now Cas, we’re 3-0; I deserve a break.”

“Well, it’s your turn to do something incredibly stupid that I have to bail your ass out of, so that’s probably how it’ll work out,” Dean returned, reaching across her to shove Sam gently in the way that she’d learned to interpret as _don’t scare me like that again_.

“Yeah, probably,” Sam agreed, his jaw cracking with a yawn.

"Go to sleep," Claire ordered. "All of you."

"Way ahead of you," Dean murmured, burying his face in the pillow, one arm slung over her waist. "Do archangels even sleep?"

"Apparently _I_ do," Cas mumbled from his other side. "Or I would, if you would _stop talking_."

Claire smiled at Dean's disgruntled noise, giggling silently as it morphed into a snore. Sam managed to open his eyes long enough to smile down at her before he, too was asleep.

Cocooned in their warmth, she succumbed to the inevitable and closed her eyes.

 

Claire drifted slowly awake, sprawled over Sam, his mouth gentle on hers. She sighed into the kiss, letting herself bask in the feeling of warmth and safety. **  
**

“There you are,” Sam said softly when she reluctantly pulled back. “How’re you feeling?”

“I should be asking you that,” she answered. “I’m the only one here who wasn’t going through that ritual.”

He shrugged. “Been better, been worse. Any day we don’t die, or almost, it’s a good day.”

She let herself press back a little against his erection. “So you don’t want to do anything about this?”

He smiled wickedly. “I didn’t say that. Wanna play a game?”

She narrowed her eyes. “What kind of game?”

“The kind where we see how many times I can make you come before you get so noisy you wake up Dean and Cas.”

She glanced over to where Dean’s face was pressed into the pillow with Cas curled up on his other side, one hand reaching out to rest lightly on Dean’s shoulder.

“What kind of incentive do I have to be quiet? If they wake up, they’ll probably just join in. How do you know I won’t wake them up on purpose?”

His smile widened. “Because if you can come five times without waking them up, we'll all fuck you. If you wake them up, I'll just fuck you while they watch."

She tried to hide the shiver that ran through her, but from the way his eyes darkened, she didn't quite manage it. "Either way, I get fucked," she said, shrugging.

And now he was full-on smirking. "Bet you can't," he said simply.

She growled a little, unable to resist the challenge. "Fine. Do your worst."

“Oh, I plan to,” he murmured, tugging her t-shirt up over her head.

Claire buried her face in the pillow, her breath sobbing out as she felt the fifth orgasm building. She’d managed to stay quiet when Sam pinned her down and toyed with her breasts, licking and sucking and biting, rolling the nipples between his fingers until she came. He’d licked his way down her body and buried his face in her pussy for the second and third orgasms, his shoulders pressing her thighs apart no matter how much she reflexively tried to close them. For number four he fucked her with his fingers, moving up to use his mouth and free hand on her breasts at the same time.

He’d had her turn over and slowly, teasingly, worked the biggest butt plug into her ass, taking his time until she was about ten seconds from begging. _Then_ he zeroed in on her clit, one hand stroking, the other firm on her lower back, holding her in place when she tried to pull away from the sensations that were almost too intense, until she came again, choking back a scream.

“Good girl,” he murmured in her ear, curling himself over her, his big hands stroking and petting her as she shook. “You did so well. You were so quiet.”

“You were very quiet,” Dean agreed. “Sasquatch here, on the other hand…”

Claire turned her head to see him curled up on his side, his eyes hot on her.

“That was five, right?” he asked, stretching like a cat, his body one long, lean line. “So do we get to play now, Sammy?”

“I don’t know…” Sam said. “How long have you been awake?”

“Dunno about Cas, but I’ve been awake the whole time,” Dean admitted, grinning.

Cas sat up, managing somehow to look even more rumpled than usual. “Likewise,” he said.

“But,” Dean said when Sam opened his mouth, “Claire didn’t wake us up. You did. So she still won.”

Sam shrugged. “Fair enough.”

Dean grinned and pulled her in for a kiss. She whimpered when her nipples rubbed against the soft cotton of his t-shirt, so keyed up that even that tiny burst of sensation was almost too much.

"Relax, sweetheart," Dean urged, laying her back on the bed and pulling away to strip off his shirt. "We'll take care of you." Cas nodded agreement behind him, nimble fingers unbuttoning his own shirt.

Claire leaned back against the pillows and watched impatiently as they stripped. Dean shucked off his clothes in record time, stretching himself out alongside her and kissing her with long, deep, drugging kisses, and then Sam was on her other side, nibbling at her ear and leaving a trail of long, sucking kisses down her neck.

She pulled back from Dean a little and opened her eyes to see Cas standing naked at the foot of the bed, looking more torn than he had since that first night in the library.

Dean noticed him, too. "C'mere, Cas," he said in that low, rough voice. "Come give Claire a kiss."

Apparently archangels weren't any more immune to that voice than regular mortals. Cas crawled up the bed toward her, muscles rippling under pale skin. He hesitated just a bit when he was braced over her, but she slid her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss.

He kissed her hot and wet and almost desperately, like he was afraid he'd be snatched away at any moment. She stroked soothing hands up and down his back, letting him take what he needed.

Finally he pulled away. "I believe Sam has a suggestion," he rasped, the dark gravel of his voice shivering over her skin.

"Dude," Dean protested. "What did I say about that shit?"

Cas rolled his eyes. "I did not invade the privacy of Sam's mind. He's practically shouting it; I'm surprised you couldn't hear."

Sam grinned. "We all know Dean's a little slow, Cas."

"Sometimes," Cas agreed, leaning over slightly to murmur in Dean's ear.

Dean grinned wider and wider the longer Cas talked. If Claire hadn't been watching so closely, she might have missed the goosebumps rising on Dean's skin, or the way he shivered just a little when Cas's hair brushed against his cheek. She raised an eyebrow at Sam and he gave her a tiny nod in return. It wasn't just her imagination, then.

"Hey," Dean said, pulling her attention back to him. "You're thinking too much. Close your eyes."

She did as he said, enjoying the feeling of warm, calloused hands sliding across her skin. Two tongues circled her nipples at the same time a third licked across her clit and she gasped, arching up against three sets of hands that pinned her firmly to the mattress.

Sam lifted his head from her breast, looking down her body to where Cas had just curled his tongue inside her pussy. "Lick her clit, Cas," he ordered. "Make her come one more time before we fuck her."

Claire started to shake and shiver when Cas went back to her clit, licking a teasing circle around it. "Yeah, right there," Sam said approvingly. "She's close, aren't you, baby?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but Dean scraped his teeth across her nipple, Sam squeezed the other one, and Cas slipped two fingers inside her pussy. She jolted up, screaming as she came.

Dean tugged at her until she was straddling him, licking into her mouth for a deep, filthy kiss. “Gonna fuck you now, sweetheart,” he murmured when he pulled away, positioning his cock for her to sink down on. He smoothed his hands up her back, holding her close against him, kissing her again and again as he moved lazily inside her.

They broke the kiss, both sucking in a breath as Sam eased the butt plug out of her. Claire took deep breaths as Sam pushed slowly inside, letting her forehead drop onto Dean’s shoulder.

Sam kissed her shoulder, rocking into her just a little deeper. She whimpered, overwhelmed by the sensation. “You ready for Cas, baby?” he murmured.

She nodded, lifting her head and opening her eyes, shuddering as Sam and Dean began to move inside her.

“Cas, get over here and fuck her mouth,” Dean ordered with a groan.

The bed shifted under them and she turned her head to watch Cas crawl toward them. He knelt by her head and took his cock in hand, lifting it toward her mouth. “Open,” he ordered, and she hurried to comply, swirling her tongue around the head. She couldn’t move far, pinned between Sam and Dean, so she let her mouth go loose, let him fuck into it. He slipped his fingers into her hair, holding her in place for his thrusts.

It didn’t take Cas long to pick up the rhythm that Sam and Dean were setting, and soon she was lost in the push and pull of their cocks inside her. The wet, slick slide of Dean as he fucked her pussy, the dark, shivery feeling of Sam thrusting into her ass, the heavy weight of Cas on her tongue. Sam’s hands found her breasts and she whimpered, shaking between them.

“Can you come for us one more time, baby?” Sam asked, scraping his teeth over her throat, and she nodded as best she could, moaning when the movement made Cas’s fingers catch on her hair. He swore and did it again, pulling just hard enough to make her moan again.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Dean growled, working his hand between them to find her clit. “Come for us,” he ordered, and she did, groaning around Cas’s cock.

Her orgasm set off a chain reaction, like they’d been barely hanging on, waiting for her to come. Cas groaned and thrust just a tiny bit deeper, his fingers tightening in her hair, and came shuddering, the salty taste of him coating her tongue. Dean threw back his head, his other hand tightening on her hip, pushing up inside her as he came. Sam closed his teeth over her shoulder, his hands squeezing her breasts, and gave her a few more hard, deep, thrusts before he came, too.

Limp and sated, Claire allowed herself to be shifted around until the men were satisfied with the cuddling arrangements. She ended up half sprawled across Dean, who was still flat on his back, with Sam curled up against her back. Cas lay on his side on the other side of Dean, his chest heaving, his arm reaching across Dean to rest on her waist.

“Cas?” Dean said eventually, without opening his eyes.

“Yes?”

“Are you hugging me?”

“Well, we do share a profound bond,” Cas replied, deadpan.

“Dude, you were human for awhile,” Dean complained, but Claire noticed that he made no move to get out from under Cas’s arm. “You’ve got better people skills than this.”

Cas shrugged. “Given that I just had a sexual encounter with you, Claire, and your brother, it seems silly to quibble over a little skin contact.”

Dean sputtered. “You...we…”

“Furthermore,” Cas continued, “It seems that, if we were to continue this relationship in the future, it would be practical to explore other positions.”

“What’d you have in mind, Cas?” Sam asked smoothly while Dean’s mouth gaped wide.

“Oh, I’m not terribly experienced,” Cas demurred. “But I’m sure there are a number of ways four bodies could be put together.”

Sam winked at Claire. “I bet you’re right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This thing kept growing and growing on me. I hope you enjoy (man, I thought writing threesomes was hard. Keeping track of where everyone is in a foursome? *wipes brow*). Yes, that is a hint at possible eventual Destiel in there, because why not? SHIP ALL THE SHIPS! 
> 
> Part 2 is partially written and will hopefully be up soon. It is going to be entirely fluffy and full of feels. 
> 
> I am available for asks, prompts, and general fangirling on [Tumblr](http://dizzy-redhead.tumblr.com). Not a purely Supernatural blog (I post lots of MCU stuff, plus a smattering of other things), but I have fun there.


	34. Epilogue Part 2 of 2: The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire is stressing about meeting "the family"

**A few months later**

"Sam! Not _now_!" Claire pushed him off, turning toward the counter. "I have to cook!"

"C'mon," he coaxed, pulling her back against him and kissing the side of her neck. "You've been cooking for the past three days. It's gonna be fine. Everything's going to be great."

"I have a schedule," she protested. "They're going to be here in two hours. I have to peel the potatoes so they can cook in time, and the green bean casseroles have to go in the oven soon, and so do the pies, and---."

"Whoa, whoa," Sam interrupted. "Baby, you are officially way too worked up about this. Everything is gonna be great, there's going to be enough food for twice as many people as are coming, everyone is gonna eat their body weight in food and pass out. It’ll be fine."

She smiled despite herself. "I just...I know you guys didn't really get to do the holiday thing growing up, and I haven't bothered since Jake died. I want it to be nice. Especially since all these people are coming. I'm going to meet your family, and it's making me jittery."

He turned her around to face him. "Hey. _You're_ our family. Yeah, Jody and Alex and Charlie are, too, but they're not gonna give you any shit, and if they do, we'll stop it. And if we don't, Cas will."

"Worst thing that'll happen is Charlie hitting on you," Dean predicted, wandering into the kitchen and reaching for the unbaked pie on the counter. "Good thing you're not into girls."

Claire slapped his hand away. "That's not cooked yet. And you don't know I'm not into girls."

Dean's eyes widened and took on a faraway expression. Sam just shook his head, but his voice was suddenly a little lower, a little rougher. "Great. You broke him."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to start making out with random girls for your juvenile amusement, Dean. Definitely not if you don't leave those pies alone until they're done."

“So you’re saying there’s a chance!”

 

Claire looked up from her conversation with Charlie on the pros and cons of virtual servers when Jody and Alex started clearing the table. "You don't have to do that," she protested, starting to get up from her chair. "I can--"

Dean's hand on her shoulder pushed her gently back down to her chair. "You can sit down and let other people clean up. You've been cooking all week. The rest of us can clean up."

"Absolutely," Jody said firmly, balancing the turkey platter on one hand and a gravy bowl in the other. "It's the least we can do after that delicious meal."

“Agreed,” Cas rumbled, picking up the pitiful remnants of the mashed potatoes.

Dean kissed Claire lightly before whisking their plates off the table and carrying them into the kitchen.

"I have to say," Charlie said, "I haven't had a lot of Thanksgiving dinners, but this one might be the best. How many people get to eat dinner in a library?"

"It is pretty awesome," Claire agreed. "Way better than that stupid cafeteria-style table in the kitchen. It always makes me feel like I'm back in school."

Charlie shuddered in agreement. "I know what you mean." She glanced around, then lowered her voice. "So, you and Sam and Dean?"

Claire tried to stop the goofy smile that tried to cross her face, but she was fairly sure she wasn't having much luck. "Yeah."

"Good," Charlie said firmly. "I'd about given up on those two finding someone who could understand that they're a package deal. You're serious about this, right? Not just looking for some random hunter lovin'?"

Claire snorted out a laugh. "Definitely serious."

"Excellent," Charlie said, steepling her fingers together. "So how long should we string Dean along before we tell him we're not going to make out?"

"Oh, I like the way you think," Claire said, smiling wickedly. "We should be able to manage at least another two, maybe three hours if we play our cards right."

Charlie returned the smile with interest. "This is gonna be fun."

Dean came back into the library, stopping dead, eyes wide, as soon as he noticed them smiling at each other. "Don't mind me," he said, backing away slowly. "Just go back to whatever you were doing."

His hopeful look faded into one of confusion when they both burst out laughing.

 

“See, I told you it’d be great,” Sam said, wrapping his arm around her shoulder as they headed back into the bunker after saying goodbye to the last of their guests.

“Yeah, you told me so,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Now I’m gonna go sleep for a week.”

Dean smirked. “Want some company?”

She sighed. “I said _sleep_ , Dean. Something I doubt I’ll get much of if you join me.”

“We’ll make it worth your while,” he murmured in her ear.

“Promise,” Sam rumbled from the other side.

“Sure, why not?” Claire said, tugging them down the hall towards a bedroom. “I can always sleep after.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG, you guys, I can't believe this is really the end. I waited to post this chapter because I felt like there should probably be more, but anything I tried to add just seemed extraneous. 
> 
> For what it's worth, I have some ideas regarding possibly two sequel fics, which I am currently working on developing enough to start writing. I would love to return to these characters and this relationship. 
> 
> As always, a huge, enormous THANK YOU goes to all those who commented, left kudos, bookmarked, and subscribed. Without the encouragement, I don't know that I would've finished this ever, much less as fast as I did. You guys are the best and I love you all!
> 
> Over the next few months I'm thinking about going back through and tweaking this; some of the chapters are a little rough and all of them could stand some descriptive details, which is something I struggle with. I'll be announcing when chapters are updated on my [Tumblr](http://dizzy-redhead.tumblr.com), so feel free to follow if you'd like to know when that happens (or just follow my Under the Skin tag, if you'd rather).


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